THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

PRESENTED  BY 

PROF.  CHARLES  A.  KOFOID  AND 
MRS.  PRUDENCE  W.  KOFOID 


LA  MARQUISE  DE  KERGOAT 


THE  TRIDENT 
AND  THE  NET 


BY  THE  AUTHOR  OF 

THE  MARTYRDOM  OF 
AN  EMPRESS'1 


ILLUSTRATIONS  BY  THE  AUTHOR 
PAINTED   IN  WATER  COLORS 


HARPER  &  BROTHERS  PUBLISHERS 
LONDON     AND     NEW     YORK 

1905 


Copyright,  1905,  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS. 

All  rights  reserved. 
Published  September,  1905. 

Printed  in  United  States  of  A  merica. 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

LA    MARQUISE    DE    KERGOAT Frontispiece 

MERE    CORENTINE Facing  p.     44 

OLD    BRERE "          124 

MERE    VAILLANT "           146 

LA    VICOMTESSE    GYNETTE    DE    MORIERES "          286 

THE  "BACHELOR'S  PAVILION"  IN  THE  PARK  AT  KER- 
GOAT        "  •     370 

PRINCE  PAUL "       426 

STREET  IN-  THE  VILLAGE  OF  KERGOAT "       528 


RETIARIUS 

AGAIN  the  net!  but  stooping  low 
The  mailed  knight  flouts  his  naked  foe, 
Then  strives  to  close.     The  snaky  twine 
Above  the  trident's  levelled  line 
Is  coiling  for  another  throw. 

See  how  the  swordsman  to  and  fro 
Seeks  for  his  chance!     Ah,  God,  too  slow! 
Back!     Back!     Beware!     By  all  the  Nine, 
Again  the  net! 

"Habet!"     The  net  holds!     Blow  on  blow 
The  trident  stains  the  sand  below! 
He's  gone! — Ah,  friend,  it  is  not  thine 
To  dub  the  combat  ill  or  fine! 
Each  moment  thou  or  I  may  know 
Again  the  net. 

M.  M. 


ffioofe  H 

it  wae  in  tbe  Beginning 


FHE  TRIDENT  AND  THE  NET 


CHAPTER  I 

Got  callet  deusan  Armorik. 

A  hoary  cliff  his  wrinkled  brow  that  crowns 
With  green,  and  sets  imperious  verge, 

Between  the  wind-swept  silence  of  the  downs 
And  the  eternal  surge. 

M.M. 

"ARE  you  all  right,  Loic?"1 

The  clear,  young  voice  floated  down  quite  distinctly, 
n  strange  contrast  with  the  dull  moans  of  the  ever-rest- 
ess  sea,  swerving  and  dashing  constantly  two  hundred 
eet  below  on  rocks  which  even  the  highest  tide  fails  to 
:over. 

"All  right,  Gaidik,"2  came  up  another  childish  voice 
ike  an  echo,  trenching  upon  the  leapings  and  splashings 
)f  the  waves,  that  washed  the  base  of  the  almost  per- 
pendicular cliff. 

Gaidik  was  lying  motionless  upon  the  short,  dry,  salty 
p-ass  at  the  top  of  that  terrifying  bastion  pierced  with 
echoing  caves,  her  slim  little  form  rigid,  her  small  head, 
covered  with  a  mane  of  tawny  silken  hair,  overhanging 
;he  abyss,  and  her  tiny  hands  holding  grimly  the  slender 
iloe  rope,  to  the  other  end  of  which  she  had  skilfully 

1  Pronounced  L6-eek.  2  Pronounced  Gah-ee-deek. 

3 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

fastened  her  six-year-old  brother,  her  own  darling  little 
Loic!  She  herself  was  barely  twelve,  but  every  line 
of  her  nervous,  perfectly  knit  frame  denoted  an  ex- 
traordinary amount  of  tenacity  and  of  dogged,  fearless 
endurance. 

It  was  one  of  those  magnificent  days  in  April,  some- 
what hazy,  but  teeming  with  the  beauty  and  mellowness 
of  atmosphere  which  one  encounters  so  frequently  in 
Brittany's  early  spring.  Crickets  were  chirping,  emerald- 
green  lizards  were  swiftly  gliding  from  crevice  to  crevice, 
and  hosts  of  straw-colored  butterflies  were  flying  above 
the  thick  heather  and  broom  of  the  downs,  while  in  the 
salt  marshes  a  mile  or  so  away,  in  a  sheltered  bend 
of  the  bay  of  Kergoat,  the  Saulniers  were  out  on  the 
narrow  mud  dikes  raking  in  the  rich  harvest  of  salt  which 
the  sun  had  coaxed  for  them  from  the  shallow  etiers, 
chattering  and  calling  to  one  another  beneath  the  pale- 
blue  sky. 

The  rope  jerked  and  oscillated  irregularly  from  side 
to  side,  agitated  by  the  motions  of  the  invisible  boy,  who, 
clambering  and  crawling  along  by  its  aid  twenty-five 
feet  below  the  brink,  was  endeavoring  at  the  peril  of  his 
life  to  reach  the  coveted  nest  of  a  hawk  still  a  yard  or  so 
beyond  the  possibility  of  plunder.  He  was  progressing 
sidewise  with  his  merry,  dauntless  face  close  to  the 
mica-spangled  wall  of  granite,  his  out-stretched,  chubby 
fingers  sorely  cramped,  "pins  and  needles"  tingling  up 
and  down  his  arms  and  legs,  and  the  dull  ache  so  well 
known  to  mountaineers  beginning  to  tighten  the  muscles  of 
his  shoulders.  Yet  not  a  fibre  of  his  already  amazingly 
trained  little  body  was  allowed  to  relax,  and  inch  by  inch, 
profiting  by  every  projection  of  the  cliff,  he  unhesitating- 
ly advanced  towards  his  aim.  Perspiration  was  stream- 
ing so  fast  down  his  face  that  it  burned  his  eyes  and 

4 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

dripped  unpleasantly  into  his  mouth  and  ears,  but  no 
thought  of  surrender  to  fatigue  and  no  question  of  yield- 
ing to  such  overwhelming  odds  entered  the  stubborn 
heart  of  this  little  Breton  boy — as  yet  but  a  baby  in  age. 
Fearless,  quick,  daring,  and  extraordinarily  impetuous,  he 
already  possessed  a  very  marked  personality,  and  a  strong, 
stubborn  nature  brooking  no  contradiction. 

These  six  first  years  of  his  small  life  had  been  spent 
on  the  rugged  coast  of  Finisterre,  at  the  great  castle 
profiling  in  the  distance  its  wonderful  turrets  and  battle- 
ments against  the  hazy  sky.  There  he  had  lived  contin- 
ually in  the  open  air,  rolling  on  the  sands  of  the  narrow, 
stone-girt  beaches,  running  wild  with  his  inseparable 
companion  Gaidik  within  the  limits  of  the  immense 
domain,  in  a  delicious  richness  of  freedom  and  sunlight, 
of  friendship  with  birds  and  beasts,  of  long,  happy, 
heedless  days  and  glad,  pure  sea-breezes. 

He  was  so  bright,  so  bold,  so  mirthful,  so  well  disposed 
to  all  the  world  —  when  his  iron  little  will  was  not 
crossed — that  everybody  gave  in  to  him  instinctively  at 
the  first  hint  of  a  frown,  as  if  to  quench  even  for  an 
instant  so  much  grace  and  joie  de  vivre  was  to  fly  in  the 
face  of  all  the  designs  of  Providence.  Indeed,  it  would 
have  required  a  singular  delicacy  of  touch,  and  wisdom 
and  patience  of  a  very  unusual  and  lofty  order,  to  deal 
with  such  a  nature,  and,  unfortunately  for  him,  Loic's 
father,  the  very  man  for  such  a  task,  had  died  when  his 
little  son  was  barely  a  year  old — died  very  suddenly  and 
unexpectedly,  leaving  to  his  young  widow,  already 
mistress  in  her  own  right  of  great  possessions,  the  entire 
control  of  their  two  children,  and,  until  they  came  of  age 
or  married,  of  the  whole  of  his  large  fortune  and  estates. 

Unfortunately,  also,  the  Marquise  de  Kergoat  was  the 
very  last  person  in  the  world  who  should  have  been 

5 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

burdened  with  such  crushing  responsibilities.  She  was 
a  beauty  who  had  sunk  too  softly  into  her  bed  of  rose 
leaves  ever  willingly  to  rise  for  long  out  of  it.  Her  slow, 
graceful  indolence  seemed  to  indicate  a  softness  and 
pliant  yielding  bordering  on  weakness,  and  yet  a  physiog- 
nomist would  instantly  have  discerned  that  her  habitual 
compliance  of  manner  was  mere  insouciance  and  careless- 
ness, and  concealed  a  temper  strangely  violent  and  arbi- 
trary when  fully  aroused,  for  the  firmly  drawn  brows,  the 
determined  moulding  of  the  chin,  and  the  thinness  of  the 
exquisitely  curving  lips  never  belonged  to  a  weak  per- 
sonality. Her  worst  trait,  however,  was  a  selfishness  as 
phenomenally  intense  as  it  was  unconscious.  Indeed, 
she  would  have  been  honestly  thunderstruck  had  she 
ever  been  accused  of  so  heinous  a  fault,  but  still  this 
intransigeant  egoisme  was  the  true  reason  why  she  almost 
always  allowed  Loic  to  do  precisely  as  he  chose,  since  it 
annoyed  her — excepting  when  in  a  truly  royal  rage — to 
oppose  the  whims  of  this  boy,  who  was  truly  the  joy  and 
pride  of  her  life. 

She  had  really  loved  her  handsome,  chivalrous  husband 
also,  yet  her  grief  when  he  died  had  been  characterized 
especially  by  self-pity  and  by  distress  at  losing  her  most 
devoted  admirer,  a  man  who  had  sheltered  her  from 
all  the  small  troubles,  the  vexations,  and  the  fatigues 
inherent  to  even  so  gilded  an  existence  as  hers.  Al- 
ways pampered,  humored,  admired,  and  deferred  to, 
she  could  not  conceive  how  anything  or  anybody  could 
ever  resist  her — excepting,  indeed,  her  little  son,  whom 
she  allowed,  when  in  the  mood,  to  govern  her  in  the  most 
astonishing  fashion. 

Life  seemed  to  conspire  to  ruin  Loic,  for,  besides  his 
mother's  limitless  indulgence  and  enervating  tenderness, 
broken  at  intervals  by  scenes  during  which  she  would  lose 

6 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

all  control  over  herself  and  punish  him  as  she  would  a 
restive  horse  or  disobedient  dog,  there  remained  the  fact 
that  he  was  the  young  Seigneur,  the  shining  star  of  his 
people's  horizon,  the  hope  of  his  house,  whom  tutors, 
servants,  peasants,  and  retainers  indulged  in  every  fancy, 
never  daring  to  control  or  contradict  the  very  slightest  of 
his  wishes. 

Practically,  he  was  already  his  own  master  and  that  of 
all  he  surveyed,  including  his  own  devoted  and  untiring 
fag,  poor,  little,  neglected  Gaidik.  For  the  rest,  his 
prospects  were  magnificent,  his  future  estates  were  as 
fine  as  any  in  Brittany  —  or,  for  the  matter  of  that,  as 
any  in  Europe  —  the  name  he  bore  had  descended  to 
him  unstained  by  misalliance  through  fourteen  hundred 
years,  and  his  singular  personal  beauty,  inherited  from 
a  long  line  of  handsome  men  and  lovely  women  through 
all  these  centuries,  made  all  hearts  warm  to  him! 

How  far  would  he  bear  out  all  this  childish  promise, 
this  boy  who  had  merely  pris  la  peine  de  naitre? 

Gaidik  alone,  however,  entered  completely  into  all 
his  pleasures  and  understood  him  in  all  his  moods,  even 
the  worst!  Living  so  very  near  the  rose,  much  of  the 
tender  dew  lavishly  poured  down  upon  the  regal  blossom 
should  of  necessity  have  fallen  upon  her,  but  such  was 
not  the  fact.  She  certainly  was  neither  spoiled  nor 
petted,  poor  little  thing,  which  in  her  case  was  something 
of  a  pity,  since  her  little,  lonely  soul  was  peculiarly 
amenable  to  tenderness  and  equally  averse  to  any  sort  of 
harshness.  Thus  all  her  warm,  ardent  heart  concen- 
trated itself  upon  Loic — her  Loic,  as  she  called  him — the 
acme  of  all  perfection  in  her  eyes,  to  whom  she  could 
refuse  nothing. 

They  had  much  of  the  same  nature,  these  two  children, 
much  of  the  same  rare  intellect  and  rare  courage,  and 

7 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE     NET 

there  existed  between  them  a  perfect  understanding,  born 
perchance  of  their  being  so  astonishingly  alike,  excepting 
for  the  fact  that  she  added  to  the  many  qualities  they 
had  in  common  a  surprising  amount  of  self-control,  forced 
upon  her  by  her  mother's  unnatural  aversion. 

To-day  Loic  had  pleaded  so  hard  to  be  lowered  over  the 
edge  of  the  cliff  in  order  to  obtain  the  young  hawks  he 
passionately  desired  to  rear  and  train,  that,  confident  in 
her  strength  and  ability,  Gaidik  had  coolly  performed 
this  perilous  feat,  taking  first  the  sole  precaution  of 
passing  the  free  end  of  the  rope  a  couple  of  times  around 
the  trunk  of  a  broken  pine,  long  ago  killed  by  the  harsh 
sea-wind  which  eternally  sweeps  that  terrible  coast. 

There  was  a  curiously  sailor-like  precision  and  deftness 
in  everything  those  two  children  did,  a  pronounced  sailor 
swing  even  in  their  walk,  and  they  had  so  absolute  a 
contempt  for  all  forms  of  danger  that  their  escapades 
were  the  terror  of  the  entire  household,  and  caused  a 
perpetual  feeling  of  dread  and  of  impending  calamity  to 
their  personal  attendants. 

Gazing  at  the  distant  horizon  whence  the  waves 
arrived  at  a  furious  gallop,  to  break  brutally  in  sheaves  of 
dazzling  foam  many,  many  dizzy  yards  below  her,  Gaidik 
still  lay  motionless,  flat  on  her  stomach,  the  sea-wind 
blowing  her  hair  about,  the  sun  playing  hide-and-seek 
with  the  gold  in  its  bronze,  her  hands  still  inflexibly 
holding  the  rope,  her  dreamy  eyes — gray  and  changeful 
like  the  sea  itself — drinking  in,  as  it  were,  the  whole 
mystery  of  Brittany,  which  holds  close  to  the  past,  and 
moves  the  living  to  a  curious  sense  that  they  are  dead 
and  are  dreaming  in  their  graves,  so  firm  a  hold  upon 
tradition  and  ancient  poetry  and  mysticism  has  this  old 
land  preserved. 

She  was  clothed  in  short,  straight  garments  impeding 

8 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

her  liberty  of  action  in  no  possible  way,  and  she  looked  no 
bigger  than  a  sea-bird  on  the  crest  of  the  huge  wall  of  rock. 
Truly  she  reminded  one  somewhat  of  an  audacious  gull  in 
her  passion  for  the  water,  her  indifference  to  danger,  her 
swift,  graceful,  fierce  ways,  which  had  gained  for  her  the 
sobriquet  of  La  petite  Mauve  (the  little  Mew),  for  she 
seemed  to  have  assimilated  in  her  tiny  self  all  the  health 
and  vigor,  all  the  strong  activity  and  delicate,  fragrant 
freshness  of  the  ocean. 

For  one  thing,  Loic  and  Gaidik  were  forever  in  the 
water,  when  they  were  not  scampering  along  the  shingle 
and  flat  rocks  left  bare  by  the  ebbing  tide,  fishing  for 
prawns  and  crabs  with  long-handled  nets ;  or  farther  back 
on  the  moorland,  where  the  keen  air  blew  and  the 
frisky  brown  rabbits  chased  one  another  through  the 
gorse. 

Gaidik  dreamed  of  all  this  and  of  many  other  delights  as 
she  gazed,  that  delicious  April  morning,  upon  the  tender 
light  on  rocks  and  sky  and  sea,  and  watched  quite  un- 
concernedly and  unanxiously  for  the  occasional  fall  of  a 
stone  displaced  by  her  little  brother's  foot — a  fall  which 
made  no  sound  for  an  astonishingly  long  while,  and  then 
produced  a  faint  and  distant  concussion  upon  the  jagged, 
teethlike  blocks  below,  among  the  muttering  waves. 

She  knew — although  she  could  not  see  him — that  Loic 
was  upon  a  narrow  ledge,  not  flat,  but  inclined  somewhat 
upward  from  the  sheer  face  of  the  cliff,  thus  forming  a 
rugged  shelf  of  solid  granite;  that  he  had  landed  safely, 
since  he  had  called  back  "all  right"  to  her  question,  and 
this  was  enough  for  her  entire  peace  of  mind.  Not  for  a 
second  did  this  strange  child  realize  the  appalling  danger 
of  the  position;  nor  did  she  doubt  that  she  could  draw 
him  up  again  with  as  much  facility  as  she  had  lowered 
him  over  the  ghastly  edge,  for  it  was  simply  not  in  her 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

nature  to  calculate  the  consequences  of  a  daring  deed. 
That  Loic  might  become  exhausted  by  his  toil,  or  be 
seized  with  vertigo  and  fall,  dragging  her  with  him  down, 
down,  down  to  the  sharp,  broken,  cruel  angles  of  the 
uncouth  rocks,  was  not  even  to  her  a  possibility.  No! 
the  exploit  possessed  for  her  the  elements  of  a  good 
joke,  that  was  all! 

Now  and  again,  after  the  manner  of  a  sailor  who  is 
working  out  of  sight  with  a  life-line,  she  jerked  the 
rope,  which  jerk  was  punctiliously  returned  by  the 
audacious  little  fellow  who  now  had  doubtless  reached  his 
prize,  for  the  affrighted  and  piercing  cries  of  a  struggling 
bird  began  to  make  themselves  heard  with  extreme  plain- 
ness, startling  the  rock-martins  laboring  at  their  conical 
clay  dwellings,  and  the  hovering  gulls  sporting  above  the 
crests  of  foamy  incoming  breakers. 

"Ah,  he  has  got  it!"  she  murmured,  with  a  triumphant 
little  laugh,  and  she  crawled  farther  forward,  now  over- 
hanging the  precipice  by  the  full  length  of  her  head  and 
shoulders,  peering  with  straining  eyes,  but  quite  useless- 
ly, down,  since  at  this  point  the  cliff  sloped  inward  in- 
stead of  outward  as  a  respectable  cliff  should  do. 

Suddenly  her  cogitations  on  the  matter  were  brutally 
put  an  end  to  by  a  pair  of  muscular  hands  closing  around 
her  waist  and  attempting  to  drag  her  backward,  but 
Gaidik  stood  the  strain  like  a  rock.  Quick  as  thought  she 
twined  her  legs  around  the  pine  trunk  to  which  the  rope 
was  made  fast  tant  bien  que  mal,  and,  still  holding  on 
like  grim  death  to  the  rope  itself,  she  silently  struggled  to 
free  herself  with  a  tenacity  quite  out  of  all  proportion  to 
her  slender  elegance  of  make. 

Gaidik  de  Kergoat  was  one  of  those  beings  whose 
litheness  is  greater  than  their  muscular  force — although 
that  was  by  no  means  to  be  despised — but  her  powers 

10 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

of  endurance  were  phenomenal,  and,  although  recognizing 
that  it  was  of  no  avail,  she  still  fought  on  as  Bretons  do 
against  any  odds. 

"Bon  Dieu!  de  Bon  Dieu!  she  is  made  of  steel!"  growled 
her  opponent,  stepping  back  with  one  foot  in  order  to 
obtain  surer  leverage  and  lift  her  from  the  ground,  but 
as  he  did  so  he  caught  sight  of  the  rope,  guessed  what 
manner  of  object  was  attached  to  its  lower  extremity, 
and  the  cold  perspiration  started  on  his  forehead.  He 
stopped  dead,  still  holding  Gaidik  tightly,  but  too  much 
terrified  by  his  discovery  to  dare  a  move  in  any  direc- 
tion. 

For  a  fleeting  second  he  remained  motionless  as  though 
changed  to  marble,  a  cloud  obscuring  his  sight,  and  quite 
heedless  of  the  execrations  of  the  panting  Gaidik,  who, 
writhing  still  in  his  unyielding  grip,  was  furiously  de- 
manding whether  this  "sacred  imbecile"  intended  to 
kill  both  herself  and  Loic  at  one  stroke.  In  another 
second,  however,  he  was  himself  again — his  horror  a 
thing  forgotten — and,  seizing  the  rope  unhesitatingly  at 
a  point  below  Gaidik's  unrelaxed  hold  upon  it,  he  hauled 
in  slowly,  deftly,  and  steadily — a  difficult  feat  to  per- 
form without  some  risk  to  the  boy,  since  he  was  only  able 
to  guess  at  the  latter's  position  beneath  the  overhang 
of  the  cliff,  and  dreaded  to  startle  him  by  a  warning 
word. 

Fortunately,  Loic,  having  accomplished  his  perilous 
task,  had  just  signalled  this  fact  by  a  final  tug  at  the 
line,  and,  little  suspecting  what  had  occurred,  was  help- 
ing with  all  his  might;  so  that  coil  after  coil  ran  easily 
up  until  at  last  a  little  head,  covered  with  thick,  wavy 
hair,  as  brilliant  in  the  sunshine  as  that  bronze  of  Roman 
emperors  of  which  the  substance  was  enriched  with  un- 
grudged  gold,  a  face  that  had  the  color  and  beauty  of  a, 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

flower,  with  already  the  classic  lines  of  his  race,  and 
illumined  by  great,  rebellious  eyes  of  the  same  hue  and 
expression  as  Gaidik's,  appeared  above  the  edge  of  the 
cliff,  followed  by  an  erect,  square-shouldered  little  body 
that  immediately  became  rigid  with  astonishment. 


CHAPTER  II 

The  stubborn  folk  of  Arthur,  strong  of  hand, 
In  loyal  heart  and  mystic  soul  yet  free, 

Thrust  to  the  utmost  limits  of  the  land 

Fenced  by  the  Savage  Sea.  M.  M. 

"KADOC!"  the  boy  cried.  "How  do  you  come  here?" 
and  his  wide-open  eyes  stared  angrily  at  his  rescuer. 

Kadoc  was  a  tall,  handsome  Breton  sailor  between 
forty  and  fifty,  whose  tight-fitting,  blue  woollen  jersey 
revealed  extraordinarily  powerful  arms  and  a  magnifi- 
cently broad,  muscular  chest.  He  had  been  the  late 
Marquis's  matelot,  and  spent  most  of  his  time  in  un- 
complainingly rescuing  his  dead  master's  orphaned  chil- 
dren from  similar  self -sought  and  appalling  perils;  but 
just  then  he  was  really  furious,  since  the  "joke"  had 
for  once  been  carried  too  far  even  for  him.  Indeed,  he 
did  not  speak  immediately  after  lifting  his  young  mas- 
ter over  the  lip  of  the  cliff,  together  with  the  screech- 
ing baby-hawk  removed  from  its  nest  under  such  vio- 
lent protest,  and  now  tightly  buttoned  within  Loic's 
jacket. 

"What  is  to  be  done  with  you,  you  naughty  ones?"  he 
ended  by  saying,  his  voice  stern  and  imperious  as  he 
towered  over  the  children,  his  head  thrown  back,  a  flash 
of  honest  indignation  in  his  blue  eyes.  "Shame,  Made- 
moiselle Gaidik,  and  shame  on  you,  too,  Monsieur  Loic, 
for  coaxing  her  to  help  you  into  such  mischief!"  But 
Loic  held  his  ground  quite  unabashed. 

13 


THE    TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

"Don't  you  dare  to  scold  Gaidik!"  he  cried.  "She  is 
a  good  girl,  and  wanted  to  go  down  herself,  but  she  was 
too  heavy  for  me  to  lower  down  to  the  hawk's  nest.  You 
are  always  spoiling  sport;  but,  anyhow,  I  have  one  of  the 
birds,  so  I  don't  care!"  and,  shaking  off  Kadoc's  restrain- 
ing hand,  he  marched  off  in  the  direction  of  the  castle, 
muttering  and  grumbling  as  he  went,  his  dark,  straight 
brows  grimly  knit  together. 

"  Don't  you  understand,  Monsieur  Loic,  that  you  might 
both  have  been  killed,  and  that  it  was  only  by  a  hair's- 
breadth  that  I  arrived  in  time?  Why,  Mademoiselle 
Gaidik  could  never  have  hauled  you  up,  and — Bon  Dieul 
de  Bon  Dieul  what  a  death!"  Kadoc  cried,  following 
him  closely. 

"Eh!  What?  Could  not  have  hauled  me  up?  Gai- 
dik?" the  boy  retorted  over  his  shoulder,  much  offended. 
"You  don't  know  what  you  are  talking  about.  Why, 
Gaidik  is  as  strong  as  you  are,  I  tell  you.  She  has  pulled 
me  up  and  down  the  cliffs  a  million  times  already!" 

"At  that  spot?"  questioned  the  incredulous  Kadoc. 

"Well,  at  that  and  other  ones,  of  course  I  climb  up 
and  down.  It  is  not  so  steep  as  you  think,  you  old  idiot; 
but  still,  without  the  rope,  I  could  not  do  it,  because  there 
is  only  just  room  on  the  little  teeth  of  the  rock  to  put 
my  feet  on;  so  don't  bother  me  any  more.  You  could 
not  do  it  yourself." 

Kadoc  raised  his  eyes  to  heaven  in  pious  horror,  but 
still  his  sternness  relaxed  and  he  could  not  repress  a 
smile  as  he  eyed  his  tiny  lord  with  ill-concealed  pride 
and  delight.  "He  is  game,  our  little  marquis,"  he  mur- 
mured. "Kergoat  blood  pure  and  simple,  never  afraid 
of  anything  and  always  loyal."  The  sailor  could  no 
longer  be  abrupt  or  angry,  and  he  followed  his  unruly 
charges  across  the  purple  -  flowering  heath,  his  tanned 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

face  singularly  brilliant,  his  great  height  and  naturally 
noble  carriage  making  him  a  most  striking  figure.  As  to 
Gaidik,  a  warm,  tender  smile  had  broken  over  her  de- 
fiant eyes  and  set  mouth  while  listening  to  her  little 
brother's  spirited  and  enthusiastic  defence  of  her. 

From  the  top  of  the  cliffs  where  they  now  walked  the 
eye  could  sweep  over  the  sea  north  and  south,  at  that 
moment  fanned  by  the  freshening  breeze  into  a  vast 
field  of  dazzling  color.  Behind  Cape  Kergoat  stretched 
moorland,  marshes,  and  forests  of  cork-oak,  crossed  by 
many  streams  fringed  with  osier-beds,  brown -tufted 
reeds,  sea-daffodils,  and  sea-stocks,  where  all  was  quiet 
save  for  a  bittern's  cry,  a  snipe's  shrill  scream,  or  the 
rustle  of  the  wind  through  the  low-growing  scrub  of  rock- 
roses  around  the  tall  menhirs  and  cromlechs,  profiling 
their  gaunt  shapes  against  the  pale  sky. 

•Soon  they  reached  the  cultivated  land,  walking  be- 
tween fields  of  waving,  foamy  ble-noir  in  full  bloom  and 
of  shadowy  azure  flax,  finally  entering  the  chemin-creux 
which  leads  to  a  side  gate  of  the  Home  Park. 

There  is  nothing  comparable  to  Breton  chemins-creux, 
hedged  in  as  they  are  by  a  cool,  fragrant  riot  of  tum- 
bling ivy,  lustrous  holly,  honeysuckle,  clematis,  and 
ferns,  through  which  the  tall  spearlike  fronds  of  pink 
foxgloves  and  the  delicate  mauve  of  harebells  rise  in 
dazzling  profusion 

The  chemin-creux,  or  "sunken  path,"  is  a  strictly  Breton 
institution  encountered  nowhere  else  in  the  world.  Al- 
ways dewy,  dusky,  fresh,  and  thickly  carpeted  with  soft 
mosses,  it  is  the  birthplace  of  the  finest  eglantines  and 
blackberries  in  Christendom,  and  is  invariably  finished 
off  on  both  sides  by  a  glowing  upper  fringe  of  golden- 
blossomed  gorse  and  whin,  diffusing  a  fragrance  as  of 
apricots  and  honey  from  early  April  to  late  November. 

15 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

Loic,  with  the  irrepressible  energy  of  his  tender  years 
(to  which  was  added  a  characteristic  heedlessness  of  con- 
sequences), rushed  along,  clambering  up  and  down  the 
banks  of  this  particular  chemin-creux  in  quest  of  flowers, 
disregarding  with  equal  contempt  the  sharpness  of  many 
a  thorn  or  bramble,  and  the  increasing  outcries  of  the 
reawakened  and  surprisingly  able-bodied  hawklet  but- 
toned inside  his  jacket,  and  now  lustily  complaining  of 
so  erratic  a  mode  of  progression. 

Lili,  hare  'antet  ho  dellion,  war  vord  an  dour  zo  er 
prajou  (the  silver-leaved  lilies  are  already  edging  the 
ponds  and  the  meadows),  Gaidik  called  out  to  him  in 
Breton,  as  with  the  swiftness  of  an  avalanche  he  came 
tumbling  towards  her,  brandishing  a  handful  of  fox- 
glove. 

"Oh,  are  they?  Then  we  will  go  and  fetch  some  to- 
morrow," he  replied,  with  the  grand  air  acquired  in  a 
household  where  he  was,  practically  speaking,  supreme 
lord  and  master.  He  enjoyed  to  the  full  every  moment 
of  the  day,  this  child  of  quick  angers  and  equally  swift 
repentances,  taking  punishment  for  his  misdeeds  when 
at  last  it  came,  with  an  assumption  of  complete  indiffer- 
ence and  a  stubborn,  superior  droop  of  the  eyelids  which 
exasperated  his  mother  far  more  than  shrieks  or  com- 
plaints would  have  done,  and  frequently  bursting,  as 
soon  as  he  was  released  and  out  of  her  sight,  into  per- 
fectly genuine  ro*rs  of  laughter  over  the  merest  trifle 
that  chanced  to  amuse  him. 

Swiftly  the  now  fully  reconciled  trio  walked  on  be- 
tween the  flower-starred  banks  of  verdure;  above  which 
antique  oaks,  gnarled  by  the  sea -wind,  bent  towards 
one  another  like  dwarfs  and  crook-backs  performing  the 
devil's  dance,  and  at  last  they  reached  the  ivy-draped 
postern-door  opening  into  the  thickness  of  the  mediaevally 

16 


,- 


THE   TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

turreted  wall  which  still  in  all  its  primordial  integrity 
surrounds  the  immense  park  of  Kergoat. 

That  park  is  marvellous.  Sleeping  in  shadowy  still- 
ness, its  terraced  lawns  and  magnificent  parterres,  its 
straight  avenues  of  century-old  trees,  its  wild  debauch 
of  blossoms,  its  tangles  of  flowering  shrubs,  with  here 
and  there  the  slender  jet  of  a  fountain  sparkling  through 
the  branches,  are  almost  indescribable,  and  in  its  midst 
there  is  the  hazy  shimmer  of  an  exquisite  lake  studded 
with  the  above-mentioned  "  silver-leaved  "  lilies — a  species 
peculiar  to  Brittany. 

In  the  ideal  atmosphere  of  that  privileged  region, 
mellowed  by  the  near  proximity  of  the  Gulf  Stream,  all 
manner  of  plants  and  trees  thrive  and  multiply,  if  only 
they  be  sheltered  a  little  from  the  ever-present  wind, 
and  within  those  great  walls  Himalayan  cedars  and 
Oriental  palms,  feathery  bamboos,  and  Siberian  pines 
stand  cheek  by  jowl,  towering  above  thickets  of  almonds 
and  hawthorn  deliciously  pink;  lilac  and  laburnum  so 
laden  with  fragrance  that  the  mere  smell  of  them  sends 
little  thrills  of  gladness  throughout  one's  whole  being; 
while  acacia,  myrtle,  camellias,  giant  fuchsias,  and  pome- 
granates run  riot  beneath  Biblical-looking,  broad-leaved 
fig-trees,  and  shelter  nodding  companies  of  anemones, 
jonquils,  tulips,  and  irises,  amid  which  bees  drone  and 
countless  birds  twitter  and  dart  to  and  fro. 

Kadoc  and  the  children  swung  onward  quickly,  fright- 
ening extravagantly  long  -  tailed  lizards  as  they  stepped 
over  the  grass,  and  scattering  many  bronze-corsleted  han- 
netons  buzzing  amid  the  long,  pendent  clusters  of  acacia 
and  wistaria. 

Loic  was  enthusiastically  discussing  a  paludier  wedding 
which  was  to  take  place  that  very  day  punctually  at 
eleven.  They  were  "his"  paludiers,  working  all  the  year 

17 


THE    TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

round  in  "his"  salt-marshes,  and  therefore  was  the  di- 
minutive marquis  expected  to  give  away  Jeannik,  the 
bride,  a  blue-eyed  fleur  de  lin  of  seventeen,  who  was  con- 
sidered one  of  the  beauties  of  the  tiny  fishing  village 
nestling  under  the  shelter  of  "his"  grim  Gothic  castle, 
nerve*,  the  bridegroom,  nephew  to  Kadoc,  was  very  well 
off  for  those  parts,  and  his  marriage  feast  would  be  ar- 
ranged quite  regardless  of  expense. 

"I'll  have  to  kiss  the  mariee !  Loic  exclaimed,  in 
his  abrupt  fashion,  striding  along  with  both  hands  stuck 
deep  in  the  pockets  of  his  wide  white  Breton  breeches, 
his  ruddy  locks  fluttering  beneath  the  broad  brim  of  the 
classical  Chouan  hat  loaded  with  multicolored  chape- 
louses  (thick  chenille  cords  wound  round  and  round  the 
low  crown  in  and  out  of  broad  silver  buckles),  and  the 
sun-rays  glittering  upon  the  rows  of  fleur-de-lysed  but- 
tons adorning  his  short,  crimson  ratine  jacket,  thickly 
broidered  with  weird  silken  patterns  in  accordance  with 
Breton  etiquette. 

The  little  hawk  was  silent  now,  probably  out  of  sheer 
lassitude. 

"I'll  put  on  my  silver  and  gold  embroideries,  and  a 
big  bouquet  of  white  roses  on  my  shoulder.  You'll  see 
if  I'm  not  the  finest  dancer  when  I  lead  the  rondel"  he 
continued,  with  that  nothing-doubting  assurance  of  his, 
while  his  magnificent  eyes  smiled  frank  and  friendly 
and  serene  up  at  the  steel  -  blue  orbs  of  his  big  garde- 
du-corps. 

"  J'aime  bien  les  cotillons  rouges. 
J'aime  mieux, 
Les  cotillons  bleus! 
Les  cotillons  rouges! 
Les  cotillons  bleus! 
Ce  sont  les  bleus, 
Que  j'aime  le  mieux!" 
18 


THE    TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

He  sang  merrily,  skipping  in  unison  with  the  quaint 
ronde  tune,  a  gay,  handsome  little  figure,  the  brightness 
of  which  reflected  a  long  after-glow. 

"  Oh,  I  am  the  Seigneur  from  to-day  on,  Gaidik!  Don't 
you  call  me  a  baby  any  more!  Just  think,  I  am  Jeannik's 
father — Jeannik,  who  is  ever  so  much  older  than  you! 
Isn't  that  fine?  I'll  be  your  father,  too,  when  you  get 
married,  and  that  will  be  soon.  Old  Mam-Goz  (Granny) 
Koader  says  that  mamma  will  be  mean  enough  to  get 
you  married  at  fifteen,  because  she  wants  to  get  rid  of 
you.  My  poor  little  dearest  darling  Gaid!" 

' '  Hush,  Monsieur  Loic !  How  can  you  say  such  things  ?' ' 
Kadoc  interrupted.  "You  know  that  Granny  Koader 
is  a  spiteful  old  cat,  who  half  the  time  does  not  know 
what  she  is  talking  about.  If  you  are  to  be  our  Seigneur, 
from  now  on  you'll  have  to  be  careful  not  to  repeat  such 
ridiculous  nonsense.  Surely  you  do  not  want  it  to  be 
said  of  you  as  in  the  chanson:  Ann  dud  jentil  navez  zo 
kri  Givel  a  oare  goz  da  vistri"  (The  new  Seigneurs  are 
bad ;  the  old  ones  were  better  masters.) 

The  boy  gave  no  heed  to  the  reproof.  His  brows  were 
suddenly  drawn  together  in  painful  thought;  his  curved, 
rosy  lips  were  shut  fast. 

"I  don't  want  you  to  marry,  my  Gaid!"  he  said  at 
last,  very  slowly.  "I  cannot  do  without  you;  you  are 
my  Gaidik — nobody  else's.  I'd  kill  anybody  who  tried 
to  take  you  away!"  and  with  a  sudden  violent  rush  he 
threw  himself  into  his  sister's  arms,  crushing  the  hapless 
hawklet  so  ruthlessly  in  so  doing  that  the  poor  bird  once 
more  began  to  utter  piercing  cries. 

"Sainte  Vierge!  Monsieur  Loic,  do  behave  yourself!" 
cried  the  nonplussed  Kadoc,  while  Gaidik  burst  out 
laughing,  though  there  was  a  dimness  in  her  eyes.  She 
was  never  talkative,  holding  herself  generally  much 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE   NET 

aloof — not  out  of  shyness,  for  she  was  a  brave  little 
thing,  nor  yet  out  of  temper,  since,  except  for  rare  fits 
of  almost  untamable  passion,  she  was  exceedingly  good- 
natured  and  serene,  but  as  the  result  of  a  coldness  and 
indifference  that  seemed  strange  in  one  so  young.  With 
Loic,  however,  she  was  a  different  being,  and,  holding  his 
hand  pressed  fast  in  hers,  she  promised  with  many  en- 
dearments never  to  leave  him,  never  to  vex  him — 
never!  never!  never! 

"I  could  not  live  without  you,"  explained  the  pacified 
lad.  "You  are  a  regular  boy;  you  can  do  all  that  boys 
can;  you  can  row  and  sail  and  steer,  and  dive,  too,  like 
a  duck,  and  run  and  shoot  and  climb.  There  was  never 
any  one  like  you,  Gaid!" 

Gaidik  looked  at  him,  keenly  touched. 

"Ah,  my  dear!  my  dear!"  she  whispered,  "I  should 
not  care  to  live  any  longer,  either,  if  I  had  not  got  you." 

They  were  silent  awhile — an  unusual  thing  with  them 
— walking  steadily  on  beside  Kadoc,  who  was  watching 
them  curiously.  He  remembered  the  night  when  his 
master  had  died  five  years  before,  intrusting  those  two 
little  ones  to  his  watchful  care;  and  he  sighed.  "They 
are  strange  little  creatures,"  he  thought,  sorrowfully, 
"and  it  would  have  been  better  if  they  had  not  had  that 
devil  in  them  that  will  never  let  them  be  still,  and  will 
never  be  subdued,  I  am  afraid.  There  is  fierce  fighting 
blood  in  them,  and  it  will  out;  but  I  suppose  the  good 
God  knows  best  what  to  do  with  such  wild  birds — one 
may  be  sure  of  that  at  least." 

They  were  nearing  home  now,  and  Loic  suddenly  sprang 
forward,  all  his  troubles  forgotten,  calling  loudly,  Ah, 
voila  Maman!  as  a  graceful,  slender,  erect  woman  ad- 
vanced towards  them  under  the  warm  shadow  of  the 
flowering  lilacs.  Her  dark  eyes  and  softly  chiselled  feat- 

20 


THE    TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

ures,  the  dainty  rose  of  her  oval  cheeks,  the  deeper  rose 
of  her  small,  delicately  thin-lipped  mouth,  and  the  raven 
blackness  of  the  thick  bandeaux  framing  her  haughty, 
obstinate  brow,  made  a  very  beautiful  picture  as  she 
swept  slowly  along,  her  hands  full  of  freshly  gathered 
flowers,  her  pale-gray  morning  gown  trailing  noiselessly 
on  the  velvety  grass. 

Her  whole  face  brightened  at  the  sight  of  the  boy  run- 
ning towards  her,  and  the  perception  of  her  beauty  be- 
came acute;  it  sparkled  in  the  half-light  of  the  leafy 
dimness,  her  eyes  gleamed  like  jewels — soft,  deep,  lumi- 
nous jewels,  like  live,  brown  diamonds — her  whole  being 
expanding  with  passionate  pride,  as,  regardless  of  the 
havoc  made  of  her  superb  bouquet,  she  threw  one  arm 
about  him  and  kissed  his  moist  forehead,  his  eyes,  even 
his  little  sunburned  neck,  with  greedy  tenderness. 

Kadoc  and  Gaidik  had  joined  them,  and  the  sailor, 
beret  in  hand,  stood  mutely  watching  the  encounter, 
while  Gaidik,  also  without  a  word,  awaited  the  moment 
when  she  would  be  allowed  to  kiss  the  slender  hand  ex- 
tended to  her  every  morning  in  a  sort  of  patronizing 
greeting. 

Madame  de  Kergoat's  voice  was  clear,  smooth,  and  crisp- 
cut,  especially  when  she  addressed  her  little  daughter,  for 
this  child's  every  look  and  gesture  was  distasteful  to  her. 
During  the  short  walk  up  the  smooth  lawns  between  the 
flowering  trees  towards  the  castle,  she  used  that  crisp- 
cut  voice  to  some  purpose  on  the  subject  of  dishevelled 
little  girls,  who,  at  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning,  have 
already  managed  to  lose  the  prim  freshness  consequent 
upon  their  matutinal  tub — all  this  delivered  in  the  tones 
of  one  launching  a  polite  but  cutting  denunciation. 
Occasionally  she  appealed  to  Kadoc,  who  was  listening 
to  her  with  an  attitude  of  respectful  enlightenment,  of 

21 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

instinctive  feudal  homage,  but  with  an  expression  in  the 
depth  of  his  stern  eyes  which,  had  she  once  glanced  his 
way,  might  have  given  her  some  food  for  reflection. 

Yet  although  Madame  de  Kergoat's  optics,  like  those 
of  the  fly,  had  usually  the  privilege  of  seeing  all  around 
at  once,  she  did  not  observe  the  peculiarity  of  the  gaze 
fastened  upon  her,  nor  the  eloquent  reproach  contained 
in  her  little  daughter's  big  gray  orbs. 

What  a  dazzling  vision  she  was,  that  beautiful  mother 
who,  according  to  Loic's  own  statement,  could  be  "so 
cruel  nasty"  when  she  wished!  Just  then  the  little  Sei- 
gneur's face  had  assumed  a  droll  expression,  and  he  wink- 
ed quite  unblushingly  at  his  sister.  He  knew  how  to 
manage  her,  and,  annoyed  beyond  measure  by  the 
lengthy  fault-finding,  he,  with  magnificent  aplomb,  at 
last  created  a  diversion  by  displaying  his  treasure,  and 
by  declaring  that  it  was  too  fine  a  morning  to  scold, 
joining  his  small  brown  hands  as  he  spoke,  and  separating 
them  like  a  swimmer,  in  an  eloquent  gesture  that  swept 
the  horizon.  Madame  de  Kergoat's  attention  was  in- 
stantly riveted  on  him,  her  attitude  relaxed,  she  smiled, 
shook  her  jewelled  fingers  gayly  at  him,  and  led  the  way, 
with  him  clinging  to  her  arm,  up  the  southern  terrace 
steps,  while  Gaidik  still  held  back,  her  small  visage  per- 
plexed and  troubled,  her  gray  eyes  snapping  with  re- 
pressed feeling  of  a  singularly  unpleasant  sort. 

Kergoat  is  one  of  the  handsomest  relics  left  to  us  by 
generations  who  knew  how  to  build  on  the  lip  of  a  sheer 
cliff.  Grimly  mediaeval,  it  is  a  regular  seaside  fortress, 
with  ponderous  round  towers,  dangerous-looking  meur- 
trieres,  machicolations,  and  chemins  de  ronde,  its  im- 
mensely thick  walls  capriciously  streaked  with  gold  and 
silver  hued  lichens,  and  exquisitely  overgrown  by  vigorous 
garlands  of  ivy  hundreds  of  years  old, 

22 


THE    TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

One  end  of  the  long,  wide,  granite  terrace,  which  the 
little  party  had  reached,  was  arranged  as  a  sort  of  out- 
door dining-room.  A  blue  -  and  -  crimson  awning  was 
spread  overhead,  and  on  a  square  bamboo  table,  sur- 
rounded by  comfortable  chairs,  was  disposed  on  an  em- 
broidered Russian  table-cloth  a  very  tempting  break- 
fast. The  tall  samovar  hissed  softly,  fruit  and  cream 
and  crisp  little  loaves  alternated  with  sheaves  of  corn- 
flowers and  poppies,  and  a  couple  of  splendid  Great 
Danes,  answering  respectively  to  the  names  of  Plick  and 
Plock,  lay  luxuriously  in  possession  of  a  warm-hued  rug 
near  by. 

The  curtain  had  risen  for  the  children  upon  Act  Two 
of  the  beautiful  summer  day. 


CHAPTER   III 

A  people  like  a  Menhir — without  change, 

Unhewn,  immovable  and  vast — 
Wedded  by  legends,  quaint  beliefs  and  strange, 

Unto  a  misty  past.  M.  M. 

MEANWHILE,  at  the  foot  of  the  castle  cliff,  Jeannik, 
the  little  bride,  was  being  dressed  for  the  ceremony.  Her 
cottage,  dating  in  style  and  accommodation  back  to  the 
primitive  epochs  of  Brittany,  was  a  gray,  rectangular  lit- 
tle house  built  of  blocks  of  undressed  granite,  as  severe 
in  its  outward  aspect  as  one  of  the  jagged  rocks  of  the 
beach  whereon  it  looked,  save  for  the  redeeming  fact 
that  the  roof  was  of  exquisitely  mellowed  old  thatch, 
constellated  with  clusters  of  waxen,  pink  and  pale-yellow 
Fleurs  de  Jesus  —  a  sort  of  profusely  flowering  moss, 
the  habitual  parasite  of  such  thatches — enhanced  here 
and  there  by  tufts  of  blue  irises  cresting  its  low  gable. 

No^  sooner  had  you  passed  the  wide,  half -glazed  door, 
than  you  left  behind  you  all  trace  of  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury, and  found  yourself  transported  as  on  a  magic  car- 
pet, six  or  seven  hundred  years  back,  amid  furnishings 
handed  down  from  generation  to  generation,  and  customs 
as  well  as  costumes  of  equal  antiquity.  The  cupboard- 
beds,  lits  -  clos,  of  dark  oak  polished  by  usage  and  by 
continual  rubbings  to  the  dusky  brilliancy  of  ebony, 
rose  one  above  the  other  on  both  sides  of  a  monumental 
hearth,  their  finely  chiselled  silver  hinges  and  red-bordered 
green  serge  draperies  adding  a  richness  to  their  quaint 

24 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

aspect,  while  the  ponderous,  almost  immovable  central 
table,  its  enormous  thickness  scooped  out  into  the  cir- 
cular concavities  that  take  the  place  of  crockery,  and 
receive  twice  a  day  the  fragrant  Soupe  aux  choux,  or 
thick  buckwheat-mush,  which  forms  the  ruddy  Paludier's 
staple  food,  was  in  itself  a  revelation  of  fashions  and 
ways  long  fallen  into  disuse  everywhere  but  in  Basse- 
Bretagne. 

In  front  of  a  heavily  carved  Bahut,  matching  in 
splendor  of  tone  the  rest  of  the  furniture,  stood  Jeannik, 
surrounded  by  her  Filles  d'Honneur  (bridesmaids)  and 
her  old  mother,  towards  whom  she  raised  her  soft  blue 
eyes,  all  aglow  with  a  tender,  appealing,  mocking,  half- 
defiant,  half -shy  smile,  as  ornament  after  ornament  was 
added  to  her  already  gorgeous  costume. 

There  was  not  much  light  within  the  house,  for  the 
paternal  French  Government  maintaining  a  heavy  tax 
on  all  windows,  even  the  richest  Breton  peasant  is  con- 
tent to  admit  the  sun  only  through  time-honored  half- 
doors  and  a  few  narrow  loop-holes,  which  for  the  most 
part  are  nearly  smothered  in  clinging  vines  and  curtained 
by  vigorously  verdant  parietaires ;  but  still  that  par- 
ticular morning  was  lavish  of  its  brightness,  now  that 
the  sun  had  pierced  the  early  mist,  pulsating  with  warmth 
and  golden  rays  like  a  thing  alive,  and,  moreover,  the 
dancing  waves  lapping  the  lavender-crowned  sea-wall  of 
the  tiny  garden,  sent  like  huge  reflectors  some  of  their 
blue  shimmer  and  dazzle  right  into  the  oak-raftered  room. 

Thus  it  was  possible  clearly  to  distinguish  the  slender, 
archaic  figure  of  the  little  Marite,  clad  in  a  straight- 
falling,  rather  short  skirt  of  thick  purple  cloth,  encircled 
five  times  with  four-inch-broad  bands  of  black  velvet, 
and  revealing  at  the  hem  the  successive  ornamental  green 
and  red  selvages  of  five  white  cloth  petticoats,  each  a  lit- 

3  2S 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

tie  longer  than  the  next  above.  With  this  went  a  corsage 
and  stomacher  of  cloth  of  gold,  with  wide  purple  cloth, 
velvet-bordered  sleeves,  a  rich  purple  silk  apron,  above 
which  was  chastely  folded  a  diaphanous  kerchief  of  snowy 
lace,  and  a  pointed  coifie  and  broidered  serre-tete  of 
finest  mull — le  pignon,  as  it  is  called — around  which  a 
double  wreath  of  white  and  pink  roses  was  attached  by 
golden  pins.  Around  her  slender  neck  hung  from  a  gold 
pailletted  velvet  ribbon,  the  delicately  wrought  golden 
cross  surmounted  by  a  Breton  heart,  which  is  the  distin- 
guishing sign  of  the  married  woman,  and  on  the  already 
toil-worn  little  hand  shone  the  clumsy  golden  heart-and- 
crowrr  Anneau  de  Fian$ailles. 

Young  and  lovely,  and  pure,  truly,  as  a  flax  blossom, 
was  Jeannik,  a  pleasant  hint  of  red  in  her  rounded  cheeks 
(that  covert  carmine  of  perfect  health  which  seems  to 
glow  through  the  satiny  skin  of  young  girls  brought 
up  a  la  dure  and  always  in  the  open  air),  and  in  her 
sumptuous  attire  she  gave  the  impression  of  having 
just  stepped  from  the  parchment  pages  of  some  illumi- 
nated missal,  or  dropped  out  of  one  of  those  wonderfully 
painted  sanctuary  windows  still  to  be  found  in  ancient 
Breton  fanes,  where  brilliantly  garbed  saints  are  repre- 
sented in  very  much  that  same  costume. 

The  mother,  tall,  imposing,  dignified,  wearing  her  own 
ancient  Habit  de  Noce,  its  gold  and  silver  threads,  its 
silken  broideries  now  softened  to  deliciously  melting  hues, 
gazed  tenderly  and  somewhat  sadly  at  this,  her  youngest 
child,  her  ewe-lamb,  for  the  six  others,  all  boys,  had  at 
one  time  and  another  found  their  deaths  in  the  great 
tomb  of  the  Breton  coast — perdus  a  la  mer,  as  they  say 
there — yet  when  the  girl  looked  up  she  saw  nothing  but 
a  smile  on  the  faded  lips  and  in  the  heroic  eyes,  paled  by 
so  many  tears  shed  in  secret. 

26 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

At  last  Madame  la  Mariee  is  ready.  A  last  look  at 
the  tiny  mirror  which  reflects  her  like  a  little  pool  of 
green  water — thanks  to  the  delicate  ferns  obscuring  the 
lucarne,  near  which  it  stands  on  a  three  -  legged  stool, 
and  which  produce  the  effect  of  a  finely  meshed  net  of 
verdure  drawn  across  the  aperture — and  she  kneels  down 
before  the  tall,  black-and-silver  crucifix  to  say  her  beads 
until  her  fiance  comes  to  fetch  her  away,  accompanied 
by  Monsieur  le  Marquis,  aged  six,  who  is  to  replace  the 
father  many  long  years  dead. 

Outside,  the  sounds  of  Bignious,  energetically  blown, 
are  rapidly  drawing  nearer,  and  down  the  meandering 
path,  with  its  rough  stone  walls,  its  ancient  Celtic  stone 
crosses  gauntly  profiled  at  regular  intervals,  its  square- 
hewn,  thinly  scattered  little  stone  houses,  its  tangle  of 
flowering  blackberry-vines,  and  its  patches  of  flowering 
mosses  and  lichens  mantling  the  irregularities  of  all  that 
stone,  a  thin  cloud  of  dust  begins  to  float  up  from  many 
feet — a  transparent  screen  of  white  dust  and  powdered 
sand  which,  dancing  in  the  sunlight,  looks  like  the  fumes 
of  some  great  boiling  caldron  full  of  molten  gold  and 
silver. 

Les  Sonneurs  (the  bagpipe  players)  are  advancing 
heading  the  long  double  file  of  wedding  guests,  and  Mere 
Corentine,  who  has  stepped  to  the  door,  catches  sight  of 
the  tall  form  of  her  future  son-in-law,  stepping  forth  in  all 
the  bravery  of  his  crimson  jacket,  five  white  woollen  waist- 
coats, wide,  snowy  breeches,  crimson,  gold-clocked  stock- 
ings, canary-colored  shoes,  and  broad  black  Chouan  hat 
looped  up  for  the  occasion  with  a  big  cluster  of  red  and 
yellow  roses.  Beside  him,  keeping  excellent  time  to  the 
lively  lilting  music,  marches  little  Loic,  also  dressed  in  a 
superb  Breton  costume,  all  glittering  with  priceless  antique 
silver  and  gold  Armorican  embroidery,  his  face  flushed 

27 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

with  pride  and  importance,  his  tiny  feet  hardly  touching 
the  earth. 

Truly  that  Depart  de  la  Mariee  would  have  made  a 
striking  picture-subject,  for  the  cortege  was  a  singularly 
brilliant  one,  with  its  extraordinary  variety  of  cantonal 
costumes,  each  more  dazzling  than  the  last,  and  the  tiny 
Marquis,  who  headed  it,  leading  the  shy,  pretty,  blushing 
Jeannik,  was  alone  a  sight  worthy  of  note. 

The  road  was  short,  and  soon  the  long,  multicolored 
train  of  wedding  guests  entered  the  little  church-yard, 
fragrant  with  lavender,  rosemary,  and  thyme,  where  wild 
flowers  and  feathery,  waving  herbs  almost  conceal  the 
humble  granite  crosses,  marking  the  spot  where  many 
a  stalwart  fisherman,  washed  ashore  after  some  destruc- 
tive storm,  sleeps  his  last  sleep.  They  clustered  for  a 
moment  round  the  quaint  porch  of  the  old,  old  little 
church,  a  lovable,  ancient  thing  of  gray  stone,  green  and 
brown  with  mosses. 

Extraordinary  gargoyles,  grimacing  like  gnomes  and 
kourrigans,  surmount  that  porch,  which  is  deeply  carven 
with  massive  garlands  of  clumsy,  fantastic  flowers  and 
fruit  and  foliage,  by  hands  dead  many  centuries  ago, 
while  ponderous,  weather-beaten  saints  stand  like  grim 
sentries  on  each  side  of  it. 

It  was  almost  dark  within,  and  only  confusedly  at 
first  could  the  dimmed  beauty  of  the  decorations  be  dis- 
cerned. Indeed,  the  veiled  rays  of  the  sun  only  just 
gleamed  through  the  narrow  painted  windows,  as  if  fil- 
tered by  sombre  jewels.  Little  by  little,  however,  the 
eye  became  accustomed  to  this  diapered  penumbra, 
wherein  one  faintly  distinguished  the  beauty  of  the  altar, 
the  rich  golden  brocades  of  the  aged  priest's  vestments 
scintillating  on  a  faded  white  satin  background,  the  tall 
silver  candelabra  flashing  their  tiny  stars  of  light  amid 

28 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

a  mass  of  white  heather  and  yellow  genesta,  brought 
from  the  neighboring  Landes,  and  the  countless  me- 
morial tablets  encrusted  upon  the  thick  walls,  bearing  the 
sinister  words,  Perdu  a  la  Mer,  following  the  names  of 
the  countless  dead  resting  at  the  bottom  of  the  cruel, 
capricious  ocean. 

Overhead  the  bells  were  ringing  joyously,  and  through 
the  open  door,  where  beggars  had  foregathered,  from 
many  a  mile  around,  in  the  anticipation  of  alms  —  like 
a  miniature  Cour  des  Miracles  —  the  clear  notes  of  a 
ronde  sung  by  some  giddy  young  sailors  hurrying  to 
join  the  last  stragglers,  were  wafted  in: 


1  Fendons  le  Bois 
Le  Roy! 

Chauffons  le  Four 
L'  Amour! 
Riez  la  Belle 
Car  c'est  le  jour!" 


On  the  right  of  the  altar  there  is  a  sumptuously  carved 
and  generously  proportioned  pew,  surmounted  by  a  coat 
of  arms.  To-day  it  was  occupied  by  the  Marquise  de  Ker- 
goat,  Gaidik,  and  their  following,  but  Monsieur  le  Mar- 
quis, firm  at  his  post,  knelt  immediately  before  the 
officiating  cur£  to  the  left  of  the  bride.  The  boy's  face 
was  grave,  his  big  gray  eyes  looked  wise  and  serious,  in 
spite  of  the  inquisitiveness  of  his  eager  little  profile, 
which  was  all  his  mother  and  sister  could  see  of  him. 
This  was  a  great  day  for  him,  a  day  during  every  minute 
of  which  he  fully  realized  the  importance  of  his  role,  the 
great  dignity  of  his  office ;  and  as  he  listened  to  the  familiar 
Latin  murmured  above  his  ruddy  locks,  he  felt  as  if  he 
had  now  left  childhood  forever  far  behind,  and  was  really 
acting  the  part  of  a  good  and  kindly  Seigneur  to  his  people. 

29 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE   NET 

In  his  chubby,  white -gloved  fingers  he  tightly  held  the 
rings  which  he  was  to  hand  to  the  cure  in  a  few  seconds, 
and  when  the  words:  "  Ego  conjungo  vos  in  matrimonium 
in  nomine  Patris,  et  Filii,  et  Spiritus-Sancti  "  fell  upon 
his  ears,  he  accomplished  this  little  function  with  extreme 
courtliness,  bowing  low  as  he  slipped  the  golden  circlets 
into  the  out-stretched  palm  of  the  venerable  officiant. 

"  Benedic  Domine  annulos  hos"  —  the  old  voice  was 
mellow  and  impressive,  and  at  the  end  of  the  prayer  the 
devoutly  intoned  "  A-a-a-men  "  was  echoed  by  the  clear, 
distinct  accents  of  Loic,  who  in  his  double  quality 
of  Father  and  of  Seigneur  had  been  instructed  to 
display  a  very  special  fervor  during  the  whole  cere- 
mony. 

The  boy  was,  moreover,  notwithstanding  his  many 
pranks,  a  true  child  of  Brittany,  where  things  mystical 
become  part  of  one's  very  bones.  They  seemed  to  him 
the  natural  accompaniments  of  the  crystallinely  pure 
atmosphere  of  the  Church  in  which  he  was  being  brought 
up,  and  he  entertained  a  very  deep  respect  and  reverence 
for  its  gorgeous  ceremonies. 

A  happy  child,  he  had  his  splendid  castle,  his  lovely 
gardens,  his  cliffs,  his  beloved  toys  and  joys  and  pleas- 
ures; he  had  Gaidik,  whom  he  adored,  and  his  mother, 
who  worshipped  him;  and,  moreover,  he  had  also  the 
dare-devil  spirit  of  his  race;  but  with  all  this  he  had 
also  a  very  distinct  sense  that  Catholicism  —  as  it  is 
practised  in  old-fashioned,  loyal  Brittany — was  a  great, 
superb,  entrancing  faith,  that  ever  opened  up  new  per- 
spectives, made  new  promises,  brought  to  pass  new  and 
awe-inspiring  surprises,  including  time  as  well  as  infinite 
space,  a  sort  of  glittering  magnificence,  blue  and  green 
as  the  world  itself,  yet  much  more  mysterious! 

All  this  is  a  question  of  temperament,  and  Loic  had  a 

30 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

wonderfully  noble,  if  a  very  violent  and  authoritative 
one. 

Throughout  the  day,  at  the  great  banquet,  when  he 
proposed  the  health  of  the  young  couple — standing  upon 
a  chair  to  do  so — during  the  dancing  of  the  rondes  on 
the  green  turf  to  the  tune  of  the  shrill,  barbaric  Bignious, 
while  between  the  bride  and  groom  he  jumped  and 
stamped  his  little  feet  in  perfect  measure  with  the  in- 
terminable circle  of  couples  linked  hand-in-hand,  Loic 
was  the  cynosure  of  admiring  eyes. 

Backward  and  forward,  balancing,  jumping,  singing 
the  refrain  of  the  long  gavotte  at  the  top  of  his  lungs, 
he  yielded  to  the  intoxication  of  the  moment,  true  to 
his  rhythm,  remarkable  in  the  free  grace  of  his  every 
gesture,  his  curly  head  erect,  his  cheeks  deliciously  flushed, 
his  trim  little  figure  always  picturesquely  poised,  he 
would  have  gone  on  like  that  for  twenty-four  hours  at 
a  stretch,  and  was  exceedingly  wroth  when  summoned 
away  to  rest  himself  before  attending — as  would  be  his 
duty  later  on — the  home-going  of  the  bride. 

Indeed,  Kadoc  did  not  escape  a  fierce  attack  and  a 
storm  of  reproaches  when  he  arrived  to  escort  him  from 
the  Grande  Place  where  the  dances  were  in  progress. 

"Why  can't  I  stay  with  them  till  supper -time?"  he 
demanded,  furiously,  as  they  turned  into  a  narrow  green 
lane  skirting  the  wall  of  the  lower  park. 

Kadoc  shrugged  his  broad  shoulders  and  smiled.  "It 
is  all  very  well  for  you  to  be  among  them  as  long  as  they 
are  sober,"  he  replied,  dryly,  "but  you  know  as  well  as 
I  do,  Monsieur  le  Marquis" — intentional  stress  was  put 
on  the  respectful  and  impressive  appellation  seldom  used 
as  yet  towards  the  child — "that  when  they  begin  to 
drink  hard,  they  are  no  longer  fit  company  for  you,  al- 
though still  frank  and  good  Bretons!" 

31 


THE    TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

Monsieur  le  Marquis  turned  towards  Kadoc  aggres- 
sively, his  hands  on  his  hips,  his  eyes  shining  like  stars  in 
the  fast-gathering  twilight. 

"Suppose  you  hold  your  tongue,  Maitre  Kadoc!"  he 
cried.  "My  Bretons  are  always  fit  company  for  me,  and 
I  am  as  safe  with  them  when  they  are  drunk  as  when 
they  are  sober.  It  is  you  with  your  nonsense-tales  who 
have  made  mamma  keep  Gaidik  away  from  the  dance, 
I'd  wager,  and  that's  enough  harm  done  for  one  day! 
Oh!  you  need  not  frown ;  I  am  not  afraid  of  you,  Monsieur 
Croquemitaine !" 

At  that  moment  the  angry  boy's  tirade  was  interrupted 
by  a  violent,  snarling  sound  proceeding  from  the  broad 
ditch  at  the  foot  of  the  wall,  where  two  excessively 
drunken  men,  awakened  from  their  slumbers  by  Loic's 
shrill  tones,  had  instantly  grappled  with  each  other,  and 
were  rolling  over  and  over  in  the  shadow,  cursing  abomi- 
nably, and  filling  the  calm  evening  air  with  a  torrent  of 
ugly  and  extremely  personal  invective. 

Loic  stopped  short;  then,  before  Kadoc  could  grasp 
his  intention,  he  ran  swiftly  to  the  tangled-up  fighters 
and  literally  fell  upon  them  tooth  and  nail,  beating  the 
amazed  and  terrified  men  on  the  face  and  head  with  his 
tiny,  doubled-up  fist,  kicking  them  lustily  with  his  little 
yellow  slippers,  all  this  with  a  dangerous  gleam  in  his 
eyes,  and  repeated  promises  to  break  their  stubborn 
heads  for  them  if  they  did  not  instantly  go  home  and 
behave  themselves,  delivered  in  a  tone  which  nearly 
capsized  Kadoc's  gravity,  and  magically  sobered  up  the 
combatants  for  the  time  being. 

"You  must  be  pretty  drunk,  you  brutes,  if  you  make 
me  speak  twice!  What!  is  it  you  Hoel,  and  you  Arch'an, 
who  dare  to  disobey  my  orders?" 

The  men  slowly  got  up  abashed  and  unsteady,  gazing 

32 


THE    TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

stupidly  at  their  small  lord,  who  was  holding  his  ground 
superbly. 

Kadoc,  silent  and  motionless,  towered  behind  him  on 
guard,  but  he  was  anxious  to  let  him  fall  back  as  much 
as  possible  on  his  own  resources  and  pluck,  since  the 
lesson  would,  he  thought,  be  a  salutary  one  for  all  parties 
concerned. 

"Do  you  hear  me?"  the  little  fellow  continued,  scowl- 
ing at  the  two  sullen,  obstinate  faces  before  him.  "Go 
home  and  try  to  keep  quiet!  It  is  only  right  that  I 
should  be  fetched  home  if  that  is  the  way  you  behave, 
you  Map  Kagnez !  (sons  of  dogs).  And  I  who  was  just 
scolding  Kadoc  for  saying  that  you  are  a  drunken,  foul- 
mouthed  tribe!  But  he's  right;  you  truly  are  a  set  of 
murdering  ruffians  as  soon  as  you  drink  brandy!  Sacrees 
canailles,  Va!  he  concluded,  stamping  his  foot  con- 
temptuously; then  with  an  after-thought  he  added:  "It's 
a  jolly  good  thing  Gaidik  was  not  there  after  all!  Nice 
language  for  a  woman  to  hear!" 

Kadoc  chuckled  inaudibly  from  the  deepening  shad- 
ows, delighted  that  his  recent  harangue  should  have  re- 
ceived such  immediate  confirmation. 

"Kadoc's  speaking  against  us,  is  he?"  roared  Hoe'l, 
suddenly  advancing  in  fantastic  zigzags,  and  edging  tow- 
ards the  tall  Garde  du  Corps,  who  now  swiftly  stepped 
forward  and  stood  beside  Loic. 

"None  of  that,  men!"  he  said,  quietly,  his  voice  low 
and  razor-edged.  "Do  as  Monsieur  le  Marquis  tells  you! 
Go  home  this  instant,  and  don't  try  to  pick  a  quarrel 
with  me,  because  if  you  do,  your  worthless  heads  will 
be  broken  in  good  earnest  this  time!"  He  was  coldly 
measuring  the  two  men  with  his  merciless  blue  eyes,  his 
powerful  figure  drawn  up  to  its  full  gigantic  height.  "Go, 
Hoel;  go,  Arch'an!  You'd  best  hurry,  for  my  patience 

33 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

is  very  nearly  at  an  end,"  he  concluded,  bringing  his 
fierce  face  on  a  level  with  theirs. 

Kadoc  was  greatly  feared,  and  so  merely  growling  out 
a  parting  round  of  maledictions,  the  two  brawlers,  magi- 
cally reconciled  by  a  common  misfortune,  stumbled  off, 
fraternally  supporting  each  other,  their  brandy-soaked, 
excited  voices  dying  suddenly  away  as  they  turned  an 
angle  of  the  wall. 

The  purple  Breton  gloaming,  musical  with  the  twitter 
of  drowsy  birds,  gave  one  a  sense  of  great  spaces  and 
depths.  Behind  the  machicolations  and  bastions  of  the 
park,  squirrels  seeking  their  mossy  nests  scampered  upon 
the  rough  bark  of  the  trees ;  sometimes  a  twig  snapped  or 
an  acorn  or  pine-cone  fell  noisily  upon  the  sanded  paths, 
and  beyond  the  great  masses  of  dark  verdure  overtop- 
ping the  wall,  the  last  glow  of  the  sunset  had  faded  to  the 
exact  hue  of  an  unripe  orange,  quaintly  streaked  with 
warm  amethyst. 

"Kadoc,"  began  Loic,  in  somewhat  quivering  tones, 
"you  were  right,  they  are  nasty  when  they  are  drunk, 
and — and — I  am  sorry  to  have  spoken  rudely  to  you!" 

"It  was  nothing,  nothing  at  all!"  the  big  sailor  mut- 
tered, abruptly,  although  his  heart  was  touched  by  the 
winning,  easy  repentance  of  the  boy  he  loved.  "It  is 
not  worth  talking  about,  Monsieur  Loic;  you  never  mean 
what  you  say  when  you  are  in  a  passion,  and,  moreover, 
I  know  you  too  well  to  take  offence  at  your  scoldings, 
mon  p'tit  gars. 

Loic  nodded  acquiescently,  but  was  evidently  per- 
plexed. 

"Kadoc!"  he  cried,  pausing  in  the  middle  of  the  path 
and  looking  up  at  the  grim  face  of  his  escort  with  round, 
questioning  eyes.  "I  am  a  Breton,  too — a  true  Breton! 
Will  I  also  get  drunk  when  I  grow  up,  and  fight  like  that 

34 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

— not  that  I  would  mind  the  fighting,  though,"  he  added, 
truculently. 

"You  forget  that  you  are  a  Gentilhomme,  a  Grand 
Seigneur,"  said  Kadoc,  sternly.  "You  are  not  a  poor 
Saulmer  whose  only  pleasure  in  life  is  to  make  a  beast 
of  himself  on  fete-days.  You  come  from  a  great  race  of 
soldiers  and  brave  sailors,  that's  why  you  like  to  fight" 
— this  with  an  imperceptible  tremor  of  the  corners  of  his 
mouth — "but  get  drunk,  no!  no!  my  little  lord,  you  are 
too  much  like  your  father,  God  rest  his  soul!" — he  crossed 
himself  devoutly — "ever  to  do  anything  really  bad  like 
that.  I  promised  my  dear  master  on  his  death-bed  to 
care  for  you  and  make  you  walk  straight,  and  you  can 
trust  me  to  keep  my  word."  Kadoc's  face  had  now 
softened  into  a  gentle,  yearning  smile  of  remembrance, 
and  Loic  slipped  a  little,  caressing  hand  into  his  humble 
friend's  big,  hard  palm,  which  closed  with  rough  tender- 
ness around  it. 

"I  am  glad  not  to  be  obliged  to  drink  because  I  am  a 
Breton,"  he  said,  naively  content,  "for  a  Breton  I  want 
to  remain  always.  I  am  not  a  Frenchman,  am  I,  Kadoc? 
Just  a  Breton,  like  you!  I  hate  Frenchmen!" 

Kadoc's  brawny  hand  trembled  a  little,  he  grew  slight- 
ly pale  beneath  his  copper-hued  tan.  "No,  Monsieur 
Loic,  thank  God  you  are  not  a  Frenchman;  you  are  a 
true-hearted  Vretoned  pennou  kdlled  (hard-headed  Bre- 
ton) ;  there  is  nothing  mean  or  sneaking,  fickle  or  un- 
steady about  you.  You  are  a  Royalist,  a  Catholic,  an 
Aristocrat — the  Saints  be  praised! — and  you  will  be  one 
day  our  Chief  and  our  Lord — we  of  the  old  Chouan  blood, 
white  to  the  core  of  our  souls,  not  white  and  blue  and 
red,  mind  you,  like  the  French!" 

Never  had  Loic  heard  so  long  a  tirade  from  his  severe, 
silent  retainer,  and  he  was  as  much  awed  and  impressed 

35 


THE    TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

as  it  was  in  his  dauntless  little  nature  to  be.  His  usual 
laughing  insolence  and  brilliant,  buoyant  chatter  were 
quenched  for  the  moment,  and  he  remained  quite  speech- 
less during  the  rest  of  the  walk. 

When  they  reached  the  castle,  however,  he  stopped 
once  more,  brusquely,  and  gazing  down  from  the  broad 
northern  terrace  at  the  tall,  barren  cliffs  curving  away 
on  both  sides  above  liquid  depths  of  gold  and  purple  and 
shining  green — a  splendor  of  color  sometimes  seen  after 
sunset  on  that  grim  coast — he  deeply  breathed  in  once 
or  twice  the  pure,  cool  breeze  blowing  from  the  sea,  and 
said,  quite  solemnly f and  simply: 

"Oh  yes!     I  will  be  a  Breton  for  always  and  always!" 
And  Kadoc  answered  fervently,  "Amen!" 


CHAPTER    IV 

Three  oceans,  one  of  moonlight's  widest  flow, 
One,  shuddering  blackness  'neath  the  balcony — 
The  tower's,  the  cliff's  vast  shadow — far  below 
Rolled  the  Biscayan  Sea  M.  M. 

THERE  was  a  big  crowd  gathered  on  the  Grande  Place 
of  Kergoat  that  night,  standing  in  groups  under  the 
broad,  star-studded  sky,  awaiting  the  moment  to  accom- 
pany the  bridal  pair  to  their  new  home,  a  pretty  little 
cottage  beyond  the  church  on  the  road  to  Plouharzal. 
Here  and  there  the  gleam  of  a  lantern  flickered  on  the 
gold  and  silver  embroideries  of  the  rich  costumes,  and 
from  the  wide-open  door  of  the  inn  a  broad  band  of  cheer- 
ful red  and  orange  light  streamed  forth  upon  the  bag- 
pipe players,  still  relentlessly  blowing  in  their  enormously 
distended  Bignious. 

The  whole  village  had  always  been  in  full  sympathy 
with  the  young  couple,  and  no  tinge  of  jealousy  was 
aroused  by  their  superior  prosperity;  so  all  had  come 
with  one  accord,  laying  work  and  personal  affairs  cheer- 
fully aside,  to  foregather  at  their  wedding  and  agree 
among  themselves,  cordially  and  with  many  oaths,  fierce- 
sounding,  but  benevolent  in  intention,  that  the  union 
was  a  most  commendable  and  satisfactory  one,  destined 
to  reflect  immense  credit  upon  the  whole  country -side. 

Of  course,  many  of  the  men  were  now  quite  drunk. 
Talking  is  thirsty  work,  so  is  dancing,  and,  moreover,  it 
is  usual  in  Brittany  to  interrupt  such  agreeable  toil 

37 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

every  half-hour  or  so  on  festive  occasions,  in  order  to 
drink  great  bowlfuls  of  cider  or  demi  setters  of  apple 
brandy  in  honor  of  the  day.  So  far,  however,  drunken- 
ness had  not  gone  beyond  what  perfect  seemliness  and 
Paludier  etiquette  demand,  and  although  there  had 
been  a  few  scurries,  even  one  or  two  more  serious  rights, 
the  rowdies  had  been  sent  home  bleeding  and  satisfied, 
and  those  who  remained  were  still  capable  of  perfect 
decorum  and  polite  behavior.  Meanwhile  the  moon  had 
risen  above  the  cork-oak  forest  at  the  back  of  the  village 
and  was  shining  radiantly,  turning  the  gray  cliffs  into 
alternate  blocks  of  silver  and  black  marble,  according  to 
where  its  idealizing  rays  fell. 

In  the  offing  a  score  of  fishing-boats  seemed  fastened 
to  the  water  by  the  long,  golden  nails  reflected  from  their 
tiny,  flaming  fire-pots,  while  close  to  the  church  the  white 
coiffes  of  many  women  gleamed,  their  figures  indistinct, 
but  their  voices  very  young  and  real  as  they  chatted 
light-heartedly,  sitting  on  the  mossy  steps  of  the  Calvary, 
or,  with  characteristic  insouciance  born  of  long  habit, 
upon  the  low  wall  of  the  cemetery.  Breton  women  have 
singularly  pretty  and  melodious  voices,  delicious  to  hear 
in  the  evening  above  the  monotonous  murmur  of  the  sea. 
'  Suddenly  there  was  a  noisy  shuffling  of  feet,  an  elo- 
quent pause,  and  Loic,  accompanied  by  Kadoc,  appeared 
on  the  scene  with  all  the  brio  and  suddenness  of  a 
coup  de  theatre.  The  boy,  amazingly  tall  and  strong 
for  his  age,  had  a  laughing,  excited  look  in  his  eyes. 
Flushed,  brilliant,  handsome,  the  light  from  the  inn  door 
falling  broadly  upon  him,  he  stood  for  a  moment  with 
uncovered  head  bowing  right  and  left  to  his  people,  while 
shouts  of  "  Vive  Monsieur  le  Marquis,  Vive  Monseigneur!" 
fairly  rent  the  air. 

Truly  this  was  a  proud  moment,  and  he  was  too  much 

38 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

impressed  with  the  dignity  of  his  role  to  laugh  at  the 
deafening  noise,  as  he  would  undoubtedly  have  done  in 
former  days.  On  the  contrary,  he  bore  himself  with  a 
grave  urbanity  never  before  observed  in  him,  his  spirit 
mounting  to  the  exalted  occasion  when,  for  the  first 
time  in  his  short  life,  he  was  appearing  in  his  character 
of  Lord  of  the  Manor. 

"  Deves  mat  dor'ch!"  (good -evening),  he  said,  when  he 
at  last  could  make  himself  heard.  "I  am  here,  you  see, 
mes  enfants,  to  lead  Jeannik  home!"  which  statement 
aroused  another  tempest  of  appreciative  hurrahs,  this 
time  hardly  to  be  subdued. 

Under  the  great  stone-pine  on  the  edge  of  the  Place 
the  wedding  cortege  was  being  formed,  the  Sonneurs  de 
Bignious,  rather  unsteady  on  their  gaitered  legs,  indus- 
triously and  somewhat  ineffectually  attempting  to  mark 
time  while  the  guests,  amid  merriment  and  confusion, 
slowly  assembled  behind  them  in  double  file.  Every- 
body was  in  brilliant  spirits,  and  when  Loic,  holding 
Jeannik  by  the  hand,  placed  himself  at  the  head  of  the 
procession,  there  was  a  thunder  of  applause,  followed  by 
the  sacramental  first  lines  of  the  Chant  du  Depart : 

"Petra  gan 

Al  lapouzik  war  al  Ian?" 
(What  does  the  eagle  sing  on  the  Landes  ?) 

which  were  lustily  intoned  by  the  four  groomsmen,  the 
bagpipes  having  been  silenced  with  difficulty. 

"Gan  haf  gan  he'vtgnones  !" 
(He  sings  and  carols  of  his  love!) 

sang  back  Loic,  as  it  was  his  duty  to  do. 

"What  awaits  the  eaglet  in  his  nest?" 
carolled  the  groomsmen. 

39 


THE    TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 
"  His  love  awaits  him  in  his  nest/' 

answered  Loic,  standing  very  straight,  shoulders  squared 
and  head  erect,  singing  with  all  his  might. 

"  Who  will  lead  his  love  to  him  ?" 
came  the  query. 

"  Your  Seigneur  will  lead  her  to  him," 
echoed  Loic,  proudly. 

"God  bless  our  Seigneur  and  the  love  he  brings  with  him!" 

roared  the  whole  assembly,  loudly  accompanied  by  the 
bagpipes,  who,  set  free  by  their  laughing  oppressors,  now 
brayed  forth  again,  somewhat  discordantly,  it  is  true,  but 
with  immense  good -will,  as  Marquis  en  tete  the  cortege 
started  briskly  towards  the  bridal  home. 

It  was  good  to  have  once  more  a  Seigneur  to  lead  the 
bride,  a  handsome  little  Seigneur,  too,  who  seemed  des- 
tined to  uphold  the  traditions  of  his  race  right  gallantly, 
and  the  people  were  indeed  well  pleased,  for  until  now 
they  had  noticed  little  else  in  their  future  Chieftain  save 
his  traditional  good  looks  and  his  ineradicable  love  for 
mischief  and  dare-deviltry.  Yes,  yes,  surely  this  was  a 
great  day! 

A  wedding  ceremony  in  far-off  Finisterre  is  still  accom- 
panied by  the  semi-barbaric  customs  of  ancient  times,  cus- 
toms which  are  unique  in  their  vigorous  local  color  and 
have  a  cachet  of  originality  quite  apart  from  any  others 
in  the  universe,  for  there  have  been  no  pauses  in  the  ob- 
servance of  Breton  rites  since  the  very  infancy  of  that 
rugged  race,  and  Loic  was  for  the  first  time  to  witness  in 
almost  all  its  peculiarities  the  chiefest  and  quaintest 

40 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

of  them  all,  a  thoroughly  old  -  fashioned  mariage  de 
Paludiers. 

Gayly  the  noisy  band  wended  its  way  along  the  queer, 
steep,  narrow,  moonlit  road,  bordered  with  thatch -roofed 
houses  flanked  here  and  there  by  tall,  gaunt  stone  cruci- 
fixes worn  by  rain  and  storm  to  a  lovely  shade  of  pale, 
greenish  -  gray,  or  primitively  carved  images  of  Saints, 
now  grotesquely  and  pathetically  disfigured  with  age, 
some  lacking  a  nose,  others  deprived  of  an  arm  or  a  foot, 
but  in  spite  of  these  regrettable  deficiencies  borrowing 
from  their  picturesque  surroundings,  and  from  the  soft 
brilliance  of  the  Queen  of  Night,  an  indescribable  poetry 
of  aspect. 

The  Chapelouse  wreathed  hats,  the  rich  old  embroid- 
eries in  silver  and  blue,  in  gold  and  scarlet  and  green,  the 
snowy  coiffes  fluttering  in  the  freshening  breeze,  the 
prancing  musicians  with  their  beribboned  Bignious,  the 
blushing,  shy,  yet  saucy  little  bride  holding  tightly  in 
her  own  the  small,  firm  hand  of  the  small  Marquis,  made 
up  a  deliciously  embodied  vision  of  long  ago,  which  few 
sights  indeed  could  have  equalled. 

At  last  Herve's  cottage  was  reached,  and  the  long  train 
disbanded,  clustering  about  the  door  to  witness  the  bride 
and  groom's  formal  entry  into  their  new  domain.  On 
the  threshold  Loic  paused,  as  he  had  been  told  to  do, 
kissed  Jeannik  on  both  cheeks — standing  on  tiptoe  to  do 
so — vigorously  shook  hands  with  the  young  husband,  pat- 
ting him  on  the  arm  with  a  paternal  dignity,  comical  in 
its  sincere  earnestness,  and  then  stepped  back  to  where 
Kadoc  was  waiting  for  him,  while  the  bride  and  her  four 
bridesmaids,  the  groom  with  his  four  groomsmen,  Mother 
Corentine  and  Herve's  father  and  mother  entered,  closing 
and  bolting  the  door  behind  them. 

"Why  can't  I  go  in,  too?"  asked  Loic,  staring  at  the 

41 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

stout  oak  panel  now  separating  him  from  his  friend 
Herv<§. 

"Because  it  is  not  the  custom,  Monsieur  Loic,"  replied 
the  wily  Garde  du  Corps,  unwilling  to  spoil  the  child's 
new-born  seigneurial  pride  by  confessing  that  an  older 
Seigneur  would  not  have  been  excluded  from  the  ex- 
traordinary rites  now  going  on  inside.  "But  watch  now 
and  listen,"  he  continued,  "for  soon  they  will  let  go  the 
pigeons,  and  the  Chanson  de  la  Mariee  is  well  worth 
hearing." 

Loic  opened  his  eyes  to  their  widest  extent.  "The 
pigeons!"  he  whispered,  annoyed  at  his  ignorance — "what 
pigeons,  Kadoc?" 

"Hush,"  murmured  Kadoc,  "look  at  that  little  round 
loop-hole  below  the  roof;  that's  where  they  are  coming 
from";  and  lifting  the  boy  onto  the  rough,  low  wall  of 
the  little  garden,  he  stood  beside  him,  perchance  quite 
as  much  amused  and  expectant  as  his  young  Lord,  for 
there  is  something  of  the  eternal  child  beneath  the  cold, 
dignified  exterior  of  every  Breton. 

Within  the  house,  built  of  upright  blocks  of  granite 
like  the  ancient  Druidic  menhirs  and  cromlechs  scattered 
on  the  Landes  near  by,  absolute  silence  reigned.  In  the 
enormous  stone  fireplace  a  pile  of  turf  was  smouldering 
rosily,  and  on  the  heavy  table  one  rosin-candle  in  a  tall, 
copper  holder  dimly  burned.  The  well -beaten  earthen 
floor  was  as  clean  as  if  made  of  polished  wood ,  and  in  the 
deeper  gloom  of  the  chimney  -  corner  the  great  lit  -  clos 
was  just  discernible,  its  carved,  fretted  doors  wide  open, 
its  crimson -bordered  green  serge  curtains  drawn  back, 
its  coarse  sheets  and  pillows  as  invitingly  white  as  newly 
bleached  flax.  In  one  corner  stood  the  silver  locked  and 
hinged  Bahut,  in  the  other  an  oaken  bench  was  flanked 
by  a  large  spinning-wheel  made  of  rich,  dark  mahogany, 

42 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

and  right  behind  the  door  was  the  broad  vaissellier, 
the  pride  of  every  Breton  housekeeper,  gay  with  crudely 
painted  plates,  dishes,  and  cups. 

A  very  sumptuous  interior  that  for  Brittany,  the 
grandeur  of  which  was  further  enhanced  by  the  superb 
silver  crucifix  presented  by  Loic  to  his  "daughter"  Jean- 
nik,  and  which  now  hung  above  the  lofty  mantel-piece, 
adorned  by  a  branch  of  thrice-blessed  box-tree. 

Before  the  bed  the  women  closed  in  around  Jeannik; 
before  the  bench  on  the  farther  side  of  the  big,  square 
room  the  men  formed  a  similar  hedge  around  Herve,  and 
the  official  undressing  began. 

Slowly,  solemnly,  the  beautiful  garments  were  re- 
moved, the  bridal  coronal  unfastened,  the  jewels  un- 
pinned. Not  a  word  was  spoken,  not  a  sound  heard, 
save  the  rustle  of  the  heavy  brocades,  the  slight  frou- 
frou of  the  lace  coiffe  and  kerchief,  the  creaking  of 
nerve* 's  fine,  new,  canary -hued  shoes  and  wide,  silver- 
buckled  leathern  belt,  until  all  this  outer  finery  was 
carefully  laid  aside;  then  the  trembling  voice  of  Mere 
Corentine  commanded,  "Blow  out  the  candle,"  and  in 
almost  pitchy  darkness  the  rest  of  the  double  toilet  was 
continued. 

Stripped  by  their  respective  entourage  of  their  gor- 
geous wedding  costumes,  the  bride  and  groom  were  clad 
anew  in  ordinary  Sunday  clothes,  still  silently,  and  more 
by  guesswork  than  otherwise,  for  the  turf  fire  scarcely 
emitted  a  glow  sufficient  to  permit  of  those  many  pairs 
of  eyes  being  brought  into  play,  but  everything  had  been 
meticulously  prepared  in  advance,  and  there  was  no  con- 
fusion. 

When  once  again  the  two  young  people  were  dressed 
from  head  to  foot,  all  excepting  the  new  sabots  ranged 
side  by  side  on  the  hearth  -  stone,  the  bridesmaids  and 

43 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

groomsmen  fell  back,  and  the  bridegroom,  led  by  his 
father,  walked  towards  the  bed  where  the  little  bride 
had  been  laid  upon  the  brilliant  counterpane,  her  small, 
brown  hands  crossed  over  her  breast,  her  tiny,  stockinged 
feet  stiffly  extended  like  those  of  a  granite  Saint  on  a 
tombstone.  Quietly,  deliberately,  and  without  the  faint- 
est soupfon  of  false  shame,  the  young  man  took  his 
place  beside  her,  also  quite  straight  on  his  back  with  his 
hands  crossed  like  a  carven  effigy. 

For  a  minute  or  so  longer  a  profound  silence  reigned, 
then  the  old  father  commanded,  in  his  turn,  "Light  the 
candle,"  which  was  instantly  done  by  one  of  the  youths 
dipping  it  with  somewhat  spluttering  results  in  the  hot- 
test part  of  the  dully  burning  embers. 

Silently,  also,  the  company  filed  out,  the  mother  re*- 
maining  to  the  last  in  order  to  put  in  her  new  son-in-law's 
hand  the  tiny  silver  loving-cup  filled  to  the  brim  with 
hot  spiced-wine,  which  it  is  the  custom  that  the  groom 
should  share  with  his  bride  as  soon  as  they  are  left  alone. 
Also  Mother  Corentine  opened  with  a  quick,  deft  move- 
ment the  gate  of  a  large  wicker -cage  containing  two 
white  pigeons,  placed  in  readiness  on  the  narrow  win- 
dow-sill, then  with  a  murmured  blessing  she  departed. 

Nothing  can  give  an  idea  of  the  tact  and  delicacy  with 
which  all  this  was  done;  there  was  not  an  unseemly  joke, 
not  a  single  giggle  nor  embarrassing  gesture.  Tradition 
willed  things  to  be  thus  accomplished,  that  was  all. 
There  was  nothing  extraordinary  or  shocking  about  it  to 
these  simple,  decorous  souls. 

As  soon  as  the  door  of  the  little  house  once  more 
closed  behind  the  Cercle  d'Honneur — as  those  intrusted 
with  the  undressing  of  bride  and  groom  are  designated — 
six  young  men  and  women,  especially  selected  for  their 
fine  singing,  ranged  themselves  in  a  semicircle  before  it, 

44 


MERE  CORENTINE 


THE    TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

and  intoned  a  monotonous  chant  which  may  be  roughly 
rendered  from  the  Bas-Breton  as  follows: 

"Are  you  snug  in  bed,  Madame  la  Marine? 
Are  you  happy  in  your  new  nest,  we  pray? 
Are  you  content  with  your  Fate  to-day?" 

As  the  deep,  harmonious  voices  ceased  there  was  a 
momentary  pause,  and  then: 

"  I  am  snug  in  bed  as  I  can  be, 
And  my  heart's  love  is  there  with  me, 
Together  under  our  own  roof -tree," 

Jeannik  sang  from  within,  her  voice  rising  almost  ethe- 
really clear  and  unreal  from  the  half-open  lucarne  be- 
neath the  thatch. 

"  Then  of  your  joy,  Madame  la  Mariee, 
A  token  send  to  us  we  pray, 
That  we  may  know  if  truth  you  say!" 

sang  the  lads  and  maidens  lustily. 

At  that  precise  moment  there  was  a  brusque  whir  of 
fluttering  wings,  and  a  couple  of  dazzlingly  white  doves 
flew  out  of  the  round  loop-hole,  hesitated  a  second  in 
midair,  and  then,  with  a  silky  rustle  of  their  shimmer- 
ing pinions,  sped  away  in  the  purple  and  silver  night, 
where  they  soon  disappeared  like  flakes  of  drifting  snow. 

Loic  gave  a  shout  of  delight,  and  clapped  his  hands 
ent  husiasti  cally . 

"Oh,  Kadoc,  did  you  see  the  pigeons?  Weren't  they 
beautiful?"  he  cried,  almost  drowning  the  gay  voices  of 
the  singers  loudly  expressing  their  gratification  at  so 
gracious  a  token: 

"Oh,  thanks,  oh,  thanks,  Madame  la  Marine! 
We  are  convinced!     Come  now,  be  gay! 
And  with  us  dance  and  sing,  we  pray!" 

45 


THE    TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

"Hush,"  whispered  Kadoc,  and  from  behind  the  door 
Jeannik's  voice  rang  out  anew: 

"Once  as  a  girl  I  could  have  come, 

But  now  my  heart's  no  longer  mine; 
A  wife,  I  must  abide  at  home, 

Nor  join  with  you  the  laughing  line. 

"A  wife  must  bake  and  spread  the  board, 

Her  hearth-stone  she  must  sweep,  and  bring 
All  things  in  readiness  for  her  lord; 
No  longer  can  I  dance  and  sing." 

At  which  lamentable  statement  all  the  lads  and  maid- 
ens extended  their  arms  widely,  threw  them  back  in 
token  of  deep  desolation,  and  finally  let  them  slowly 
fall  with  a  wail  of  piercing  chagrin,  to  which  the  bag- 
pipes contributed  a  wheeze  of  in  tensest  and  weirdest 
melancholy.  Then  followed  many  verses  of  alternate 
entreaty  and  denial,  the  singers  depicting  the  joys  of 
youth  and  festivity,  Jeannik  enumerating  a  housewife's 
multitudinous  detaining  cares  and  duties  in  a  mournful 
catalogue,  until  suddenly: 

"Come  in  and  fetch  her,  friends,  and  see 
Whether  I'm  as  black  as  she's  painted  me!" 

sang  Herve',  his  fine,  sonorous  voice  booming  forth  with 
great  effect,  for  the  singers  instantly  rushed  at  the  door, 
and,  followed  by  a  laughing  cohue  of  guests,  invaded 
the  cottage — as  many  of  them  as  it  would  hold — where 
Jeannik  and  Herve  still  lay  side  by  side  like  two  carven 
effigies  on  the  red-and-green  counterpane. 

"Let  us  go,  too,  Kadoc!"  shrieked  Loic,  struggling 
violently;  "what  do  you  mean  by  holding  me  back?" 
But  Kadoc  could  not  allow  him  to  be  jostled  in  such  a 
melee,  and  a  scene  would  doubtless  have  followed  regret- 
tably imperilling  the  seigneurial  dignity  had  not  nerve" 

46 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

stepped  out  at  that  moment,  his  laughing  eyes  brimming 
with  fun,  and,  hoisting  the  little  Chieftain  on  his  shoulder, 
exclaimed : 

"Come,  Monsieur  le  Marquis,  we  will  take  you  back 
to  the  castle." 

Suiting  the  action  to  the  words,  he  sprang  forward, 
pushing  and  elbowing  his  way  through  the  dense  ranks 
of  his  guests,  who,  after  some  confusion,  reformed  in  a 
double  line  behind  him  to  the  completely  reawakened 
and  indefatigable  music  of  the  Bignious  and  the  loud 
hurrahs  and  vivats  of  the  enchanted  spectators. 

On  they  clattered  towards  the  castle,  past  the  mead- 
ows where  the  home  -  farm  cattle  slept  luxuriously  in 
the  deep  clover  and  rich,  long  grass,  their  breath  odorous 
on  the  night  air;  past  the  placid  lake  alive  with  wide- 
awake frogs  gravely  sitting  among  the  sword-rushes  and 
the  dock-leaves,  and  croaking  a  welcome  of  their  own 
solemn  composing ;  past  the  black  hazel  coppice  fragrant 
with  primroses  and  violets;  past  the  huge,  old  oaks  be- 
neath which  the  deer  came  every  afternoon  to  be  fed, 
and  finally  reached  the  drawbridge  which  they  crossed 
to  enter  the  Cour  d'Honneur. 

With  its  tall  louvers,  its  massive  battlemented  towers, 
its  endless  rows  of  Gothic  balconies,  its  marvellously  deli- 
cate stone  traceries,  the  great  building  looked  extraordi- 
narily imposing  in  the  moonlight  which  silvered  all  the 
antique  painted  panes  of  its  lancet  windows.  It  invoked, 
indeed,  the  days  when  great  Nobles 

"Built  royallie 
Their  mansions  curiouslie, 
With  turrets  and  with  towres 
With  halls  and  with  bowres, 
Hanging  about  their  walles, 
Clothes  of  gold  and  palles, 
Arras  of  rich  arraye 
Fresh  as  flowers  of  Maye!" 
47 


THE   TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

On  the  wide  Perron  stood  the  Marquise  de  Kergoat, 
her  long  train  carelessly  caught  over  one  arm,  in  a  shower 
of  perfumed  black  laces,  which  surrounded  her  with 
dusky  billowy  clouds,  starred  by  a  multitude  of  diamonds. 
Behind  her,  through  the  great,  open  doors,  the  immense 
hall,  with  its  dim  splendor  of  purple  and  gold,  its  gleam 
of  armor,  and  the  rosy  glow  of  lamps  suffusing  the  double 
flight  of  stairs  that  swept  upward  on  either  side  of  a 
flower-filled  onyx  fountain,  made  a  sumptuous  back- 
ground. 

Beside  her  was  Gaidik,  her  tawny  mane  falling  far  be- 
low her  waist,  her  eyes  dancing  with  excitement  as  the 
gay  procession  approached,  for  she  keenly  appreciated 
the  pageant  of  delicious  color  that  streamed  from  a 
thousand  points  of  this  beautiful  night  scene,  and  she 
stepped  forward  in  the  shadow  of  some  broad-leaved 
Mexican  plants  which  adorned  the  balustrade,  her  whole 
small  being  quivering  with  delight  as  Herve  swiftly  ad- 
vanced, bent  the  knee  to  allow  Loic  to  slide  from  his 
shoulder  at  the  Marquise's  feet,  and  then  drew  back  to 
where  his  blushing  little  wife  was  awaiting  him. 

Immediately  Madame  de  Kergoat  smilingly  descended 
towards  them,  complimenting  the  happy  young  couple 
with  a  caressing  gentleness  of  which  she  had  the  secret 
and  which  was  not  one  of  her  least  dangerous  weapons, 
She  spoke,  moreover,  in  fullest  sincerity,  for  she  liked  her 
"vassals,"  and  realizing,  moreover,  that  the  role  of  Chate- 
laine suited  her  exceedingly  well,  she  always  carried  it  to 
the  highest  point  of  perfection  whenever  occasion  pre- 
sented itself. 

To-night  she  was  openly,  visibly,  unmistakably  de- 
lighted, and  looked  the  very  incarnation  of  what  one's 
most  golden  and  treasured  fancies  of  a  great  lady  are, 
and  yet  all  her  grace,  all  her  exquisite  art,  never  aroused 

48 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

in  those  peasants  the  adoration  they  had  felt  for  their 
dead  Marquis,  and  the  love  with  which  their  hearts  were 
filled  for  his  orphaned  children.  Their  own  fathers  had 
lived  from  generation  to  generation  under  the  kindly  rule 
of  a  Kergoat,  and  the  service  they  had  given  their  masters 
had  always  been  accorded  with  a  loving  loyalty,  a  thor- 
oughly feudal  allegiance,  and  a  singularly  beautiful  pride 
in  belonging  body  and  soul,  as  it  were,  to  those  thorough- 
paced Grand  Seigneurs,  who,  one  and  all,  were  born  with 
that  nameless  gift  of  insensibly  and  without  effort  at- 
tracting deep  personal  attachment  —  rare  temperaments 
which  vanquished  hatred  as  the  sun  melts  snow. 

Loic,  marching  about  beside  his  mother  from  one  group 
to  another,  still  displayed  a  flow  of  inimitable  nonsense 
and  an  effervescence  of  animal  spirits  so  mirthful  and 
contagious  that  the  most  blas£  audience  wpuld  have 
been  laughed  into  irresistible  good-humor,  while  Gaidik, 
for  once  as  merry  as  himself,  chatted  freely  and  uncon- 
strainedly. 

That  night  lived  long  in  her  memory,  and  when  at 
length  the  interminable  line  of  wedding  guests  had  van- 
ished, after  a  vigorous  rendering  of  the  ancient  song  in 
honor  of  their  liege  Lord  and  Lady  which  is  reserved  for 
such  occasions,  and  the  dreamy  light  of  the  moon  was  left 
in  sole  possession  of  the  Cour  d'Honneur,  she  walked  up- 
stairs to  her  room  like  one  roused  suddenly  from  the 
vision  of  some  splendid  fairy  pageant,  and  the  quick  ear 
of  Loic,  sauntering  after  her,  caught  the  sound  of  a  re- 
pressed sigh. 

Half  an  hour  later,  wrapped  in  a  long  white  garment 
of  filmy  tissues,  which  made  her  look  quite  ghostlike,  the 
little  girl  was  standing  on  her  balcony,  which  overhung 
the  sea,  at  the  northwestern  extremity  of  the  ,  castle. 
The  whole  magnificent  view  appeared  as  if  a  thin  web  of 

49 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

silver  had  been  cast  over  it,  pale  and  dim  in  the  shad- 
ows, but  still  reflecting  the  diffused  moonlight.  Behind 
her  the  thick  mantle  of  ivy  clothing  the  carven  wall,  and 
capriciously  twining  in  and  out  of  delicately  fretted 
balusters  and  projections,  shone  black  as  polished  onyx, 
and  below  was  depth  upon  depth  of  velvet  darkness, 
edged  out  beyond  the  cliff-shade  by  the  glint  of  waves. 
Bats  were  wheeling  about,  coming  up  silently  and  swiftly 
out  of  the  transparent  obscurity,  slanting  towards  the 
radiance  of  the  moon,  wherein  they  madly  circled  for  a 
few  minutes  at  a  time  like  sombre  butterflies  of  gigantic 
size,  then  sweeping  away  into  the  darkness  again  as  if 
dazzled  by  so  much  brilliancy,  till  presently  the  process 
would  recommence  da-capo! 

Suddenly  two  little  loving  arms  were  clasped  about 
Gaidik' s  neck,  and  a  childish  voice  whispered  in  her  ear: 

"I  could  not  sleep,  Gaid,  before  making  sure  that  you 
are  not  unhappy,  so  as  soon  as  Yves"  (Yves  was  his 
valet)  "had  finished  tucking  me  into  bed  I  crept  out 
again,  and  here  I  am." 

The  bell  in  the  castle  tower  was  tolling  out  twelve 
solemn  strokes,  and  the  children  looked  surprisedly  at 
each  other,  for  this  was  an  hour  when  they  invariably 
lay  asleep  in  their  little  beds. 

"Oh-h-h!"  said  Gaidik,  a  long  drawn  "oh"  of  amaze- 
ment. "What  would  mamma  say  if  she  knew  that  we 
were  out  here?" 

"Say!  She  would  scold  us,  especially  you,  as  usual! 
But  never  mind,  Gaid,  she  cannot  hear  us  from  here, 
and  I  must  be  with  you  a  little  while,  for  I  have  hardly 
seen  you  all  day  long." 

Gaidik  gave  an  energetic  gesture  of  affirmation  and 
consent.  She  was  overjoyed  to  have  her  darling  near 
her  again  at  last,  and  they  both  sat  down  on  a  narrow 

5° 


THE    TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

stone  bench  clamped  to  the  inner  side  of  the  balustrade. 
Gaidik's  pale  little  face  was  paler  than  usual,  her  big, 
gray  eyes  were  graver  even  than  was  their  wont,  but 
she  nodded  her  head  slowly  and  contentedly  at  her 
brother,  as  she  curled  herself  up  on  the  hard,  uncomfort- 
able seat  and  drew  him  close  to  her. 

"Why  did  you  think  that  I  was  unhappy?"  she  said 
at  last,  curiously.  "Surely  I  was  gay  enough  this  even- 
ing." 

"Yes,  but  you  sighed  a  tremendous  big  sigh  as  we 
went  up-stairs,  and  you  did  not  eat  any  dinner — not  that 
much."  Loic  measured  half  an  inch  on  his  dimpled 
thumb.  "So  I  am  sure-certain  that  you  have  been 
scolded,  or  punished,  or  something."  He  clinched  his 
little  fist  and  shook  it  threateningly,  vehemently,  while 
his  eyes  flashed  fiercely. 

"  I  wish  I  was  really  grown  up,  not  just  making  believe, 
like  to-day!  I  would  soon  defend  you  and  protect  you 
then,  instead  of  standing  by  like  a  lump,  even  when  you 
are  punished  instead  of  me." 

"Nonsense,  Loic!"  Gaidik  exclaimed,  drawing  him  tow- 
ards her  and  hugging  him  tightly.  "Do  you  think  I 
mind  being  punished  for  you?  And  you  are  much  too 
quick  in  taking  my  part  as  it  is!  It  only  makes  things 
worse — besides  you  are  my  own  Loic,  and  as  long  as  I 
have  you,  I  do  not  care  a  bit  what  else  happens."  She 
gazed  fixedly  at  the  tossing  waters  below,  the  murmuring, 
dancing,  restless  waters,  shot  with  seams  and  cleavages 
of  light  where  the  moonrays  fell  off  in  a  ragged  fringe 
from  the  broad,  silvered  path  reaching  from  horizon  to 
shore.  A  bat  crossed  in  front  of  the  balcony,  flew  round 
and  round  almost  within  touch,  and  then  disappeared 
again  in  the  shadow. 

"Sh-h!"  whispered  Loic,  with  an  admonitory  gesture. 


THE   TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

He  stole  a  wary  glance  round  about,  and  then,  with  un- 
accustomed solemnity: 

"Did  you  see  that  bat?"  he  asked.  "He  looked  at  us 
right  knowingly  with  his  beady  little  eyes.  Well,  he  was 
sent  by  the  devil  to  listen  to  what  we  were  saying.  The 
middle  of  the  night,  Gaid,  is  the  devil's  noon,  and  no- 
body is  ever  awake  in  the  middle  of  the  night  excepting 
wicked  people,  so  you  should  be  asleep ;  but  I — it  is  quite 
natural  that  I  should  be  awake,  and  it  is  for  me  that  the 
devil's  servant  came.  I  wish  he  hadn't  looked  at  you, 
though." 

"  Mercy  on  us,  Loic,  what  are  you  talking  about  ?  Why, 
you  are  not  wicked,  you  are  never  wicked,  and  I  will  not 
have  you  say  that  you  are!" 

"Why?  One  cannot  help  being  wicked  if  one  is  born 
wicked,  no  more  than  one  can  help  being  a  bat  or  a  toad 
if  one  is  born  one,  and  perhaps  that  very  bat  was  praying 
that  he  might  be  changed  into  something  else!  I  know 
that  I  was  born  wicked — old  Malghorn  says  that  some 
day  I'm  sure  to  be  changed  into  stone  for  my  sins,  like 
the  bad  Monk  of  Plouhar'zalec  —  and  that  my  soul  will 
burn  in  hell  for  ever  and  ever."  Loic  concluded,  evi- 
dently contemplating  the  possibility  of  so  awful  a  doom 
without  the  slightest  fear,  his  slippered  feet  crossed,  his 
curly  head  lolling  back  against  his  sister's  encircling  arm. 

On  the  silence  that  succeeded  there  came  a  low  laugh 
from  Gaidik — the  laugh  of  amused  incredulity. 

"Petit  Nigaud!"  she  said,  with  decision,  "you  should 
not  listen  to  old  Malghorn.  He  is  a  devil's  servant  him- 
self, a  wizard,  a  Baz  dotu,  and  no  Breton  at  all.  Don't 
you  know  that  he  is  a  gypsy,  found  ever  so  many  years 
ago  under  a  hedge  in  the  big  road  ditch?" 

Malghorn  was  a  tall,  thin,  black-haired,  hawk-nosed, 
fierce -looking  man  with  a  pair  of  cruel  lips,  and  powerful 

52 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

jaws  which  he  never  opened  save  to  say  something  un- 
pleasant, but  then  one  must  do  him  the  justice  to  say 
that  he  opened  them  to  some  purpose,  bursting  forth  in  a 
wild  gush  of  words,  malicious,  threatening,  and  calculated 
to  arouse  terror  in  the  breasts  of  his  hearers.  On  Sunday, 
clad  in  heavy  broadcloth,  he  looked — when  one  did  not 
examine  him  too  closely — like  an  eminently  respectable 
grazier,  but  when  working  in  the  orchard — which  was 
his  vocation  at  Kergoat — with  a  sharp  pruning  -  knife 
stuck  in  his  belt,  and  a  ragged  hat  on  his  uncombed 
head,  he  became  a  rather  formidable  and  altogether  un- 
reassuring  figure.  Some  time  after  her  husband's  death 
Madame  de  Kergoat  had  deigned  to  engage  this  tall, 
bony,  haggard  individual,  who  was  certainly  an  excellent 
workman,  and  according  to  his  fellow-servants  was  ac- 
quainted with  supernatural  secrets  regarding  the  culture 
of  fruit-trees,  secrets  doubtless  obtained  through  some 
compact  with  his  Satanic  Majesty.  Also,  he  was  accused 
of  being  a  Jetteur  de  Sorts  (caster  of  spells) ,  and  went  by 
the  sobriquet  of  Ar-Zod  (the  madman). 

"He  says,"  continued  Loic,  gravely,  "that  he  can 
hear  the  grass  grow,  the  plants  shoot  up,  and  the  trees 
stretch  themselves  and  murmur  awful  secrets  to  one 
another  at  night,  and  of  course  he  may,  because  he  is 
always  prowling  round  the  menhirs  after  dark,  where 
he  dances  with  the  kourrigans." 

Gaidik  lifted  her  shoulders  in  emphatic  repudiation  of 
Malghorn's  whole  paltry  bag  of  tricks.  "No  fear  of  a 
wicked  old  beast  like  him  being  so  privileged,"  she  said, 
contemptuously.  "Fancy  his  dancing  with  the  dear  lit- 
tle kourrigans!  I  would  not  have  thought  you  silly 
enough  to  believe  such  a  story,  Loic!  Now,  good  people, 
who  are  very  pure  and  do  no  harm  to  any  one,  can  see 
shapes  and  hear  voices  miles  and  miles  away.  When 

53 


THE    TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

they  sleep  their  souls  go  far,  far,  at  the  back  of  the  north- 
wind,  to  distant  countries  ever  so  beautiful,  filled  with 
flowers  and  birds  and  delicious  music.  I  always  wish  I 
could  be  like  that.  You  see,  Loic,  I  seem  to  feel  that 
my  body  is  not  the  real  me;  it  is  my  soul  that's  me,  and 
if  I  could  only  be  good,  and  not  fly  in  a  passion,  and  all 
that,  I'm  sure  I  could  go  during  my  sleep  to  that  lovely 
place  where  everything  is  so  splendid.  I  don't  mean 
Heaven,  you  know!" 

"But  you  are  good,  Gaidik!  You  are  the  very  bestest 
best  in  the  whole  world,  and  I  think  you  are  not  at  all 
like  other  people.  They  say  in  the  village  that  you  are 
a  white  witch  because  you  do  good  to  sick  folks  when 
you  touch  them,  and  whatever  you  plant  in  your  garden 
grows,  even  sticks!  Do  you  remember  that  little  cane 
of  mine  that  you  stuck  in  among  your  cockle-shells  and 
which  sprouted  out  a  lot  of  green  leaves?" 

"Bah!  that  was  a  willow-wand,  so  there's  nothing 
astonishing  about  that.  But  there  are  some  people  who 
can  be  seen  in  two  places  at  the  same  minute.  Keinek 
was  seen  walking  through  the  park  here  before  he  died 
on  his  frigate  in  China." 

"That  was  only  his  ghost,"  interrupted  Loic,  quite 
simply  and  sincerely. 

"No,  no,  not  his  ghost!  I  heard  Uncle  Pierre  tell 
mamma  that  it  was  several  days  before  he  did  die  that 
he  was  seen,  wandering  under  the  trees,  crying  bitterly. 
So  you  see!  He  was  a  good,  good  man,  Keinek,  not  a 
beast  like  Malghorn,  who  is  not  a  callet  deusan  Armorik 
(hard,  or  true  man  of  Brittany),  but  just  a  dirty  gypsy, 
a  regular  Teuss'  Arpouliek  (three  -  headed  devil),  who 
shows  different  faces  to  each  different  person  he  speaks 
to." 

Loic  stole  another  wary  glance  about.  "Oh!"  he  said, 

54 


THE    TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

carelessly,  "everybody  knows  that,  I  have  known  it  for 
years,  but  what  only  I  know  is  that  he  spies  upon  us  and 
tells  tales  to  mamma  about  everything  we  do." 

"What!"  cried  Gaidik,  sitting  up  so  alertly  that  she 
almost  tumbled  Loic  from  the  bench;  "a  traitor,  is  he?" 
— she  spoke  in  accents  of  huge  disdain — "a  traitor? 
Well,  let  me  catch  him  at  it  and  I  will  give  him  such  a 
thrashing — you'll  help  me,  won't  you,  Loic  —  that  he'll 
never  do  so  again,  of  that  you  may  be  certain."  Her 
lips  were  parted,  her  big  eyes  two  menacing  points  of 
fire,  her  whole  tiny  person  eager  for  the  fray,  as  it  was 
the  nature  of  those  terrible  little  Kergoat  children  to  be 
on  the  slightest  provocation.  Loic  was  instantly  all 
aglow  with  impatience  to  witness  the  discomfiture  of  his 
enemy,  never  doubting  that  his  sister  and  he  would  re- 
tire from  the  encounter  with  flying  colors. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  with  a  quick  little  shake  of  the  head, 
and  speaking  with  great  animation,  "we  will  thrash  him 
to  within  an  inch  of  his  life,  the  sneak!  He  pretends  not 
to  be  afraid  of  us  because  I  am  so  little  yet,  and  you  are 
a  girl." 

"A  girl?  Me?  How  dare  he  call  me  that!"  cried 
Gaidik,  in  a  red  fury  of  wrath.  "Won't  I  box  his  ears 
for  him,  though." 

Loic  laughed,  his  rosy  face  bright  above  the  low  collar 
)f  his  pink  pajama  jacket.  "I  knew  that  would  fetch 
ou,"  he  confessed,  modestly  proud  of  this  successful  bit 
f  diplomacy. 

"Did  you  ever  hear  him  putting  mamma  up  against 
us?"  questioned  Gaidik,  who  felt  a  sort  of  morbid  in- 
;erest  in  what  the  future  held  in  reserve  for  her. 

Loic  meditated  profoundly.  Then  he  declared,  de- 
cisively: "Yes,  I  did,  one,  two,  no  —  three  days  ago. 
Mamma  bullied  you  and  sent  you  home,  don't  you  re- 

55 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

member?  Well,  he,  Malghorn,  had  been  talking  to  her 
in  the  orchard,  and  I  had  heard  him  speak  of  'Mam'zelle 
Gaidik'  and  the  apricots — those  we  climbed  in  the  tree 
for,  it  must  have  been — and  after  you  left  he  winked  at 
me  and  seemed  to  crow  over  your  being  punished.  Mamma 
is  cruel  unkind  to  you,  Gaid,  all  the  time,  but  she  was 
fierce  that  day ;  she  said  you  led  me  into  mischief,  though 
it  was  you  who  climbed  highest  for  the  apricots  I  wanted. 
I  think  that  was  very  wrong!  When  I'm  a  man,  Gaidik, 
you'll  have  everything  you  want,  and  never  a  single 
scolding!" 

"How  many  times  must  I  tell  you  that  I  don't  mind 
mamma's  scoldings  ?"  said  Gaidik,  with  her  chin  in  the  air; 
"but  I  cannot  stand  still  when  she  punishes  you.  I 
always  feel  as  if  I  could  kill  anybody  who  beats  you," 
she  continued,  almost  in  a  whisper,  but  with  tragic  in- 
tensity, her  face  growing  very  dark  and  her  lips  trem- 
bling. "Don't  set  her  back  up,  Loic.  I  can't  endure  it. 
I  really,  really  can't!" 

"Bah!"  the  child  answered,  with  the  superiority  of  a 
sage,  "she's  never  long  angry  with  me;  but  when  it's 
with  you  it  lasts  a  dreadful  long  while,  for  ever  and  ever 
and  ever,  which  is  awful  unjust!"  His  tone  was  very  im- 
pressive, and  he  spoke  as  if  he  had  a  thousand  years'  ex- 
perience behind  him.  Then  he  yawned,  opening  his  sweet 
little  mouth  as  wide  as  it  would  go. 

"Oh,  Loic,  you  are  sleepy,  my  poor  little  dear!  We 
must  go  to  bed  now." 

"I'm  not  sleepy  at  all,"  stoutly  denied  Loic,  sitting 
cross-legged  beside  her,  "not  the  least  little  bit,  and  I 
don't  want  to  go  to  bed  yet!" 

Gaidik  laughed,  showing  her  pretty,  white  teeth,  and 
both  subsided  after  this  conscientious  protest  into  drowsy 
silence. 

56 


THE    TRIDENTAND    THE    NET 

"Do  you  think,  Gaid,  that  animals  have  souls?"  the 
boy  after  a  few  minutes  demanded,  sleepily. 

"Why,  yes,  of  course  they  have  souls!  Can't  you  see 
them  shining  through  the  eyes  of  the  dogs  when  they  lay 
their  heads  on  our  laps  and  look  at  us  deep,  deep ;  and  don't 
you  know  how  horses  understand  all  one  says  to  them  ?" 

"They  understand  you  and  me,  but  not  the  grooms; 
not  nearly  as  well,  that  is!" 

"Oh,  but  it's  because  the  grooms  don't  know  how  to 
make  themselves  understood,  and  speak  to  them  as  if 
they  were  all  brutes  together!  But  now,  do  go  to  bed, 
Loic,  darling — please  do!" 

"No,  Gaidik,  I'm  so  jolly  comfy  here!  Let  me  stay  a 
little  longer!"  he  pleaded,  his  head  gradually  nestling 
more  closely  against  his  sister's  shoulder,  that  curved  it- 
self into  a  pillow  for  him.  Another  long  silence  ensued, 
and  gradually,  before  they  knew  it,  in  utter  weariness 
they  dropped  asleep  locked  in  each  other's  arms,  beneath 
the  smiling  moon. 

The  minutes  of  the  warm  spring  night  slid  into  hours, 
but  on  they  slept  as  peacefully  as  if  stretched  at  full 
length  in  their  dainty  beds,  Gaidik's  long  hair  drooping 
like  a  veil  over  her  little  pet's  face  and  arms,  her  head 
resting  quite  easily  against  the  balustrade,  in  one  of 
those  graceful  poses  which  children  unconsciously  adopt. 

In  the  distance  the  first  noises  of  awakening  farm- 
yards and  near  by  the  twittering  of  birds  began  at  length 
to  be  heard,  the  great  castle  clock  registered  the  passing 
hours  melodiously,  but  nothing  roused  them,  and  a  pret- 
tier group  than  those  two  slumbering  little  ones  would 
have  been  difficult  to  find  anywhere. 

Suddenly  Loic  gave  a  start  and  jumped  up.  "Oh," 
he  cried,  "my  foot  is  asleep  ever  so  badly,  and  so's  my 
shoulder!" 

*  57 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

"And  so  were  you,  too!"  Gaidik  replied,  almost  in- 
stantly awake,  and  bending  down  to  rub  the  offending 
member.  "We've  been  fast  asleep  ever  so  long!  Why, 
the  moon's  gone,  and  see,  it's  getting  pink,  away  off 
there  in  the  sky,  pink  and  lilac  and  yellow  like  the  bed 
of  anemones  by  the  gate!  It  must  be  the  sun  rising! 
Do  you  think  it  can  be  the  sun,  Loic?" 

"It  must  be,"  murmured  Loic,  dubiously,  rubbing  his 
eyes  wherein  the  sand-man  was  still  doing  sad  havoc. 
"What  time  is  it,  Gaid?" 

Gaidik  shrugged  her  shoulders  in  ignorance.  All  no- 
tion of  so  unimportant  a  thing  as  time  had  slipped  away 
from  her,  and  never  having  as  yet  watched  the  first 
faint  streaks  of  dawn,  she  could  not  say  that  the  short 
night  was  undoubtedly  drawing  to  an  end.  So  they 
both  peered  over  the  balcony  ledge  down  through  many 
fathoms  of  dim  space,  now  deserted  by  the  moon -beams, 
at  the  water,  across  which  was  drawn  a  faint  veil  of 
opaline  mist. 

Suddenly  Gaidik  gave  a  little  cry  of  delight  as  she 
caught  sight  of  a  score  of  big  gulls,  lazily  circling  about 
beneath  them  half-way  down  the  face  of  the  cliff. 

"Loic!  Loic!"  she  cried.  "See!  the  gulls  are  awake, 
too,  it  must  be  day!  Look,  look,  they  have  seen  us  and 
want  to  be  fed!"  She  laughed  aloud  in  her  joy,  and 
truly  the  birds  seemed  to  have  heard  her  and  understood, 
for  they  wheeled,  made  a  curving  swoop  upward  past  the 
rows  of  tightly  shuttered  windows  below,  and  rose 
triumphantly  to  the  airy  level  of  the  balcony. 

Gaidik' s  gulls — as  they  were  called  at  Kergoat — were 
most  astonishingly  tame,  and  flocked  quite  fearlessly 
around  this  corbelled  ledge,  where  she  had  accustomed 
them  to  come  and  be  luxuriously  regaled.  This  morn- 
ing they  were  almost  as  silvery  gray  as  the  delicate  mist 

58 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE   NET 

they  traversed  at  full  speed,  uttering  their  shrill  view- 
halloos. 

Quick  as  a  flash  Gaidik  had  brought  an  ever  well- 
filled  basket  from  her  room,  and  the  great  white  and 
gray  Mauves,  dodging  and  flapping  their  satiny  pinions 
in  excited  confusion,  closed  in  around  her,  catching  cov- 
eted morsels  from  her  very  hands,  held  temptingly  out 
to  them.  Now  and  again  one  of  them  would  detach  it- 
self from  the  flock  and  dart  after  a  crumb  of  that  royal 
feast,  surreptitiously  thrown  by  Loic  into  the  air.  The 
scene  was  delicious,  and  the  motions  of  Gaidik's  arms 
were  singularly  beautiful  in  their  perfect  unconstraint 
and  complete  familiarity  with  the  ravening,  fighting, 
sharp-beaked  gluttons. 

The  sky  was  by  this  time  serenely  cloudless  and  of 
palest  azure  tinged  with  deep  rose  and  dull  gold ;  beneath, 
the  sea  stirred  softly  under  some  faint  breeze,  revealing 
its  endless  extent  with  shadowy  indistinctness — for  the 
fog  was  but  slowly  lifting — while  about  and  around  the 
balcony  the  now  greatly  augmented  flock  of  gulls  were 
on  wing,  thanks  to  Gaidik's  shrewd  strategy  of  issuing 
just  enough  food  to  keep  the  whirling  cohort  in  motion. 

Neither  Gaidik  nor  Loic  were  in  any  haste  to  end  the 
fray,  but  at  last  the  basket  was  empty,  and  the  birds, 
now  like  the  whole  landscape,  delicately  tinted  with 
pink,  drifted  down  again  to  the  water — all  but  two,  that 
is,  especial  favorities  and  exceptionally  audacious,  that 
lingered  behind,  soared  for  a  moment  directly  above 
Gaidik's  head,  poised  themselves  a  moment  one  on  each 
of  her  extended  arms,  and  then,  with  a  derisive  and  sadly 
ungrateful  croak,  dropped  headlong  into  the  shimmering, 
prismatic  dimness  to  rejoin  their  brethren,  already  preen- 
ing their  unruffled  plumage  on  the  undulations  of  the 
glassy  wavelets. 

59 


THE    TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

"Tell  me  that  these  gulls  have  no  souls!"  Gaidik  re- 
marked, scornfully,  as  though  the  last  words  of  their  dis- 
cussion before  they  had  fallen  asleep  had  but  just  been 
uttered.  "They  are  as  knowing  as  humans — and  just 
as  greedy!"  she  concluded,  with  a  laugh.  "But  now 
hurry  off,  Loic,  the  servants  will  be  up  in  a  few  minutes, 
and  if  ever  mamma  were  to  be  told  of — " 

The  sentence  was  never  finished,  for  at  that  instant 
a  small,  firm,  much  -  bejewelled  hand  caught  the  little 
speaker  brutally  by  the  shoulder,  and  Madame  de  Ker- 
goat,  wrapped  in  a  hastily  snatched -up  peignoir,  all 
lace  and  fluttering  ribbons,  stood  between  her  children, 
her  lovely  face  white  with  rage,  her  eyes  flashing,  her 
lips  drawn  slightly  back  and  displaying  a  double  row  of 
viciously  clinched  white  teeth. 

Without  a  word  she  began  violently  to  shake  Gaidik, 
who,  quite  passive,  allowed  herself  to  be  swayed  to  and 
fro  without  the  slightest  protest,  accustomed  as  she  was, 
poor  child,  to  such  usage.  At  last  the  Marquise  spoke: 

"What's  the  meaning  of  this?"  she  demanded,  in  a 
rasping,  exasperating  voice.  "Do  you  think  that  you 
are  at  liberty  to  get  up  at  four  in  the  morning  to  feed 
your  idiotic  gulls,  and,  as  if  that  were  not  enough,  to 
call  your  poor  little  brother  out  of  bed  so  that  he  may 
join  in  this  senseless  performance?" 

Here  Gaidik,  who  knew  herself  to  be  totally  in  the 
wrong,  tried  to  divert  the  storm  by  offering  an  apology, 
as  her  honest  little  heart  told  her  it  was  her  duty  to  do, 
and  explaining  how  matters  really  stood;  but  when  once 
Madame  de  Kergoat's  ire  was  aroused,  it  was  impossible 
to  make  her  listen  to  anything  until  she  had  had  her  say, 
and  neither  Gaidik's  murmured  excuses  nor  Loic's  deep- 
ening frowns  and  unconscious  stamp  of  the  foot  pro- 
duced the  slightest  impression. 

60 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

"You  abominable,  heartless  child!"  continued  the 
Marquise,  trembling  with  fury.  "You  really  must  have 
plotted  to  kill  your  brother!  But  be  sure  of  this,  if  ever 
any  harm  comes  to  him  through  you,  I'll  kill  you  with 
my  own  hand!" 

The  threat  was  so  ridiculous  and  out  of  all  proportion 
to  the  present  sin,  that  Gaidik  committed  the  unfortu- 
nate mistake  of  laughing  a  miserable  little  laugh,  which, 
of  course,  was  interpreted  as  an  additional  bit  of  inso- 
lence, deserving  instant  chastisement  in  the  form  of  two 
well-directed  blows  which  left  a  livid  impression  on  each 
of  the  poor  little  pale  cheeks. 

With  a  yell  of  rage  Loic  threw  himself  before  his  sister, 
extending  his  dimpled  arms  in  energetic  protest,  and  cry- 
ing as  he  did  so: 

"Don't  touch  her  again;  do  you  hear,  mamma?  I 
won't  have  her  beaten  like  that!"  His  lips  were  trem- 
bling, his  little  face  was  ashy  white,  and  blue  fires  seemed 
to  burst  from  his  widely  dilated  eyes. 

This  brought  matters  to  a  climax,  and  Madame  de 
Kergoat,  who  by  now  had  worked  herself  into  one  of  her 
most  royal  frenzies,  pounced  upon  her  much-beloved  son 
and  heir,  raining  blows  upon  him  as  if  quite  incapable  of 
realizing  what  she  was  doing. 

When  at  length  his  mother's  passion  had  spent  itself, 
the  boy,  who  had  not  uttered  a  sound  during  this  severe 
punishment,  quietly  drew  himself  up  with  a  shrug  of  the 
shoulders  and  gazed  at  her  with  a  hard,  contemptuous 
look  in  his  clear,  childish  eyes,  which  suddenly  struck 
her  to  the  heart  with  shame  and  fear.  Falling  upon  her 
knees,  she  threw  her  arms  about  him,  imploring  him  in 
the  most  abject  terms  to  forgive  her,  and  calling  him  by 
every  endearing  name  her  distress  suggested  to  her. 

The  whole  pitiful  scene  had  scarcely  lasted  a  moment, 

61 


THE    TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

but  it  had  been  too  much  for  poor  Gaidik's  nerves,  and 
as  Loic,  in  a  fit  of  concentrated  anger — strange  in  such  a 
little  fellow — thrust  his  mother  coldly  from  him,  she  cov- 
ered her  quivering  little  face  with  her  hands  and  ran  from 
the  room,  while  Madame  de  Kergoat,  now  quite  beside 
herself  with  remorse,  redoubled  her  entreaties,  for  never 
in  his  life  before  had  Loic  been  so  deeply  resentful  and 
obdurate.  In  her  anxiety  she  cast  aside  her  much-prized 
maternal  pose — which  sometimes  she  even  assumed  for 
the  benefit  of  Gaidik — and  pleaded  and  begged  him  in  the 
most  winning  and  tearful  manner  to  pardon  his  "dear 
little  mamma,"  but  all  to  no  purpose.  She  then  resorted 
to  bribery,  and  toys  and  pleasures  of  all  possible  sorts 
were  promised,  but  the  little  fellow  would  not  yield ;  and 
without  a  tear,  without  even  vouchsafing  a  single  word, 
he  braved  her  with  a  strength  of  will  absolutely  con- 
founding. 

It  was  a  long  time  before  a  certain  great  concession — 
a  whole  day  spent  on  horseback  in  the  woods  with  Gaidik 
— succeeded  in  mollifying  him,  and  he  allowed  himself  to 
be  kissed,  tucked  into  his  little  bed,  and  sung  to  sleep  by 
his  repentant  and  shamed  mother,  who  cruelly  regretted 
having  once  again  yielded  so  unfortunately  to  her  tem- 
per. Indeed,  an  uncomfortable  impression  remained  with 
her  for  many  hours  that  her  little  son  would  never  quite 
forget  what  had  just  happened,  and  would  never  quite 
forgive  her. 


CHAPTER  V 


The  Owl  that  lives  in  the  belfry  tower 

Is  a  great  Aristocrat, 
And  hours  without  end  he  holds  speech  with  his  friend, 

The  clerical,  noiseless  Bat. 
"No  nest  that  they  build  in  the  sun,"  quoth  he, 

"Is  aught  to  my  gray  old  wall, 
The  stones  that  sheltered  my  father's  broods 

Are  solider  far  than  all. 
The  moon  hath  swung  and  the  bourdon  rung 

To  many  a  changeful  hour, 
Somewhere  and  when  they  will  swing  again," 

Quoth  the  Owl  in  the  ruined  tower. 

ii 

And  the  black  Bat  winnowed  through  shine  and  shade 

As  the  moonlit  dusk  were  chaff, 
And  wavered  around  to  the  eerie  sound 

Of  his  clerical,  wheezy  laugh. 
"It  amuses  me  how  they  plan,"  said  he, 

This  leathery-pinioned  wag, 
"The  pie  and  daw  with  their  sticks  and  straw 

And  dirty  red-flannel  rag! 
The  Bat,  some  when,  will  be  Bird  again, 

Old  ^Esop's  decree  apart; 
They  build — tee-hee — upon  theory, 

But  we  on  the  human  heart!" 

in 
"'Tis  indeed  absurd,"  quoth  the  solemn  Bird; 

"Who  knows,  who  can  tell,  the  hour, 
Red  flannel  and  sticks  they  will  find  won't  mix!" 

Quoth  the  Owl  in  the  ruined  tower.  M.  M. 

IT  was  a  bright,  fresh,  exquisite  morning  when  the 
children  left  the  castle  on  their  frisky  little  ponies.     The 

63 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

fields  were  still  covered  with  a  rosily  white  coating  of 
mist,  le  mouchoir  de  la  Vierge  (the  Virgin's  kerchief), 
as  the  pious  Bretons  call  this  delicate  and  transparent 
early  vapor  which  the  first  rays  of  the  sun  evoke  from 
the  vanishing  night  dews.  Rainbow  -  hued  beads  of 
moisture  sparkled  on  every  bush,  the  smooth  bridle-path 
through  the  forest  rang  cheerily  under  the  horses'  feet, 
and  as  the  sun  gradually  fought  its  way  through  the 
interlaced  branches,  and  made  splashes  of  scintillating 
light  among  the  underbrush,  their  spirits  rose,  and  they 
laughed  and  shouted  as  hare  or  rabbit  rushed  out  of 
cover,  or  a  plover  rose  screaming  above  their  heads,  flap- 
ping its  broad  wings  in  an  intoxication  of  freedom  and 
strength. 

The  painful  scene  of  the  preceding  night  was  almost 
forgotten,  and  save  for  the  increased  pallor  of  Gaidik 
and  the  somewhat  nervous  boisterousness  of  Loic,  had 
left  no  apparent  traces. 

The  country  became  far  more  broken  as  they  advanced, 
the  long  slopes  covered  with  chestnut,  cork-oak,  and  wal- 
nut trees  soon  giving  way  to  sharper  hills,  densely  grown 
with  pines  and  firs  and  profusely  interspersed  by  rocky 
crags.  A  choice  place  for  game,  as  Gaidik  and  Loic  well 
knew,  for  it  was  there  that  the  great  autumn  Kergoat 
hunts  had  taken  place  every  year  in  the  late  Marquis's 
lifetime.  Their  cheeks  glowed  with  excitement  as  they 
pushed  their  little  ponies  faster  and  faster,  unheeding 
that  the  heavier  animal  ridden  by  the  trustworthy  groom 
in  charge  was  not  keeping  pace  with  them  on  the  rough 
ground  and  through  the  tangled  boughs. 

Presently  they  reached  an  open  space  beneath  a  preci- 
pice of  dark,  ivy -man  tied  rock  that  rose  like  a  wall  across 
their  way,  forcing  the  path  to  circle  about  it  in  a  loop,  and 
there  they-  stopped  to  give  the  groom  opportunity  to 

64 


THE    TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

catch  up  with  them,  sitting  at  ease  in  their  saddles,  and 
admiring  with  all  their  faithful  little  hearts  those  woods 
which  from  time  out  of  mind  had  belonged  to  their  race, 
and  which  had  scarcely  changed  since  the  days  when 
La  Reine  Berthe  filait.  Every  stick  and  sod  there  was 
dear  to  them,  in  that  unprofaned  atmosphere  laden  with 
the  perfume  of  the  wild  flowers,  heather,  and  gorse, 
growing  thickly  in  every  green  fold  and  nook  of  the  land, 
where  the  fallow  deer  and  the  red  deer  now  led  untroubled 
and  peaceful  lives. 

After  a  short  breathing-spell  they  sped  on,  the  fragrant 
wind  blowing  their  hair  straight  behind  them  in  the 
rapidity  of  the  pace  they  had  adopted,  galloping  on 
through  the  soft,  misty,  broken  sunshine  filtered  by  the 
leafy  boughs  of  trees  four  and  five  centuries  old,  and 
after  a  while  they  came  upon  a  beautiful  chestnut  farm 
belonging  to  one  of  the  tenants.  It  was  a  charming 
place,  with  its  thatched  roofs  bowered  in  elder,  hawthorn, 
and  apple  trees,  and  surrounded  by  an  old-fashioned  gar- 
den, sweet  with  clove-pinks,  tall  hollyhocks,  nasturtiums, 
and  honest  cabbage  roses.  Four  chubby-cheeked  little 
girls  in  quaint  antique  Breton  costume,  looking  like  their 
own  mothers  seen  through  a  reversed  opera-glass,  were 
sitting  beneath  a  trim  privet-hedge  at  the  feet  of  a  ven- 
erable, white  -  capped  grandmother  who  was  teaching 
them  to  knit,  and  the  whole  place  had  an  air  of  prosperity, 
running  over  as  it  was  with  an  abundance  and  super- 
abundance of  leaf  and  blossom  that  promised  well  for 
future  harvests. 

Both  Loic  and  Gaidik  were  enchanted.  They  dis- 
mounted on  the  edge  of  a  pond  overhung  by  hazel  and 
willow  where  an  enormous  flock  of  geese,  white  as  snow, 
were  splashing  violently  among  the  lily-pads. 

"How  do  you  do,  Mam-Gozf  Loic  asked,  rnarch- 

65 


THE    TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

ing  across  the  turf  to  where  the  old  dame  was  en- 
sconced. 

She  looked  up,  and,  recognizing  her  youthful  landlord, 
rose  as  quickly  as  her  aged  joints  would  allow  and  courte- 
sied  profoundly;  but  this  was  not  the  sort  of  greeting 
Loic  liked  from  his  peasants,  and  with  hand  wide  out- 
stretched, he  exclaimed:  "Oh!  don't  you  know  me,Mam- 
Goz  Kerion  (Grandmother  Kerion),  don't  you  remember 
how  Gaidik  and  I  came  last  year  to  help  you  shell  your 
chestnuts?" 

"Thank  Monseigneur  kindly,  I  do  remember,"  she  re- 
plied, extremely  gratified;  "and  how  you  have  grown, 
Monsieur  le  Marquis!  why,  you  are  nearly  as  tall  as  your 
sister,  now!"  she  concluded,  gazing  admiringly  at  the 
manly  little  figure  before  her.  "It's  a  great  honor  to 
see  you  here,  My  Lord  Marquis,  you  and  Mademoiselle 
Gaidik,  bless  her  lovely  face." 

"That's  well,  Mam-GozT  Loic  said,  joyfully.  "I'm 
sure  you  mean  it,  because  it  is  not  everybody  who  gets 
a  chance  to  be  visited  by  any  one  as  nice  as  Gaidik,  and  I 
feel  exactly  like  you  about  her  face ;  but  we  have  stopped 
here  to  ask  you  where  that  narrow  road  to  the  left  through 
the  chestnuts  leads  to.  You  see,  we  have  not  been  here 
since  ever  so  many  months,  and  then  we  turned  back 
home,  but  to-day  we  have  time  and  so  we  would  like  to 
go  farther." 

There  he  stood,  his  hands  thrust  deeply  in  the  pockets 
of  his  riding-breeches,  his  sailor-hat  pushed  to  the  ex- 
treme back  of  his  head,  his  riding- crop  stuck  jauntily 
under  his  arm,  and  his  face  turned  full  on  his  venerable 
retainer,  in  eager  expectation  of  an  interesting  piece  of 
information — a  little  master  to  be  truly  proud  of. 

"Ah,  Monsieur  le  Marquis,  that  road  leads  to  the 
Chateau  de  Kerdougaszt  away  up  in  the  forest.  Has 

66 


THE   TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

Monsieur  le  Marquis  never  heard  of  Kerdougaszt,  once 
the  finest  castle  for  leagues  and  leagues  around?" 

No,  Monsieur  le  Marquis  had  never  heard  of  this  fine 
castle,  and  not  even  Gaidik,  when  appealed  to,  could 
remember  so  much  as  its  name. 

"Well,  well!"  the  old  woman  resumed,  nodding  her 
broad -winged  coiffe,  which  cast  her  still  delicate  and 
beautiful  face  in  shadows  like  those  Rembrandt  or 
Velasquez  loved  to  paint.  "Well,  well!  time  passes  and 
alters  many  things  my  little  Lord,  but  Kerdougaszt,  though 
much  ruined,  is  still  worth  looking  at!" 

"That  settles  it,  Loic!"  cried  Gaidik,  impetuously, 
"there  is  nothing  so  splendid  as  an  old,  old  chateau;  let 
us  be  off  and  see  whether  there  are  fairies  there!  Fairies 
always  dwell  in  old  chateaus,  don't  they,  Mam-goz  Mar- 
Jann?" 

Old  Mar-Jann  (Mary-Jane)  nodded  her  head,  with  a 
little  smile  of  acquiescence.  "  Yes,  My  Lady,"  she  replied, 
"of  course  they  do,  and  there  are  strange  fairies  at  Ker- 
dougaszt, so  they  say.  Go  and  seek  them  out.  They 
will  assuredly  be  glad  to  see  you,  for  you  and  Monsieur 
le  Marquis  are  of  a  truth  good  to  look  at." 

The  still  bright  eyes  of  the  aged  woman  sparkled  with 
genuine  pleasure  as  she  watched  the  children  leap  lightly 
into  their  saddles,  and  set  off  with  the  confidence  of  al- 
ready long  familiarity  with  the  "noblest  conquest  of 
man."  They  both  rode  superbly — all  the  Kergoats  had 
always  ridden  superbly — and  even  the  worst  leaping- 
places  did  not  scare  them. 

On  and  on  they  rode  through  the  dense  wood,  where 
foaming  streamlets  thundered  beneath  the  serried  pines 
with  all  the  noisy  importance  of  torrents,  forming  now 
and  then  tiny  pools  as  green  as  emeralds  dissolved  in 
sunbeams.  The  path  was  becoming  steep,  and  soon  the 

67 


THE   TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

ponies'  pace  had  to  be  slackened,  for  they  were  beginning 
to  ascend  a  sort  of  promontory  jutting  out  into  the  great 
sea  of  foliage,  and  soaring  many  hundred  feet  above  it. 
It  was  for  the  most  part  of  granite  clothed  in  stone-pines 
and  all  the  shrubs  and  hardy  plants  indigenous  to  such 
inhospitable  soil,  and  stood  as  lonely  in  the  quiet  heart 
of  the  everlasting  woods  as  any  falcon  or  eagle's  nest 
hanging  in  the  branches.  The  stout,  sure-footed  ponies 
climbed  the  steep,  sharp  way  quite  fearlessly  and  steadily, 
their  round  little  hoofs  finding  excellent  hold  upon  the 
moss  growing  everywhere  upon  it;  but  the  groom  was 
forced  to  dismount  and  lead  his  horse,  which  by  no  means 
quietly  or  patiently  accepted  this,  to  him,  entirely  novel 
sort  of  road.  There  was  nothing  as  yet  to  be  seen  ex- 
cept the  dusky  forest,  shelving  downward,  and  now  and 
again  vast  slopes  of  naked  rock  scattered  over  with  large, 
loose  stones  as  if  Titans  had  been  playing  there  an  amaz- 
ing game  of  pitch-and-toss. 

Presently  the  wholesome  smell  of  pine-needle  smoke 
began  to  mingle  with  the  cool  air  that  stirred  the  bracken, 
underbrush,  and  heather,  and  suddenly  the  deep,  angry 
growl  of  a  dog  was  heard  above  the  path,  which,  after 
a  brusque  turn,  ended  abruptly  upon  a  broad  plateau, 
where  a  mass  of  ruined  towers  and  frowning  battlements, 
with  a  huge,  square  fortress  at  one  end,  the  whole  toned 
by  the  winds  and  the  rains  of  centuries  to  a  warm  gray- 
green,  stood  in  superb  isolation. 

In  spite  of  ruin  and  time  and  neglect,  however,  it  still 
looked  majestic,  imposing,  and  splendid,  worthy  of  the 
great  race  whose  stronghold  and  birthplace  it  had  been 
so  long,  a  race  which  now  was  also  dwindling  to  a  weather- 
beaten  remnant,  represented  at  that  moment  by  a  man 
standing  beneath  the  crumbling  donjon-keep,  holding  by 
the  collar  a  fierce-looking  wolf-hound. 

68 


THE   TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

Enormously  tall,  broad-shouldered,  with  silvered  locks 
falling  upon  the  turn-down  collar  of  a  coarse  linen  shirt, 
the  light  of  the  sun  shining  'on  his  proud,  delicate  feat- 
ures, his  straight,  level  brows,  his  plain  work  -  a  -  day 
Breton  costume — similar  in  every  detail  to  that  worn  by 
any  peasant  of  the  hills,  down  to  the  heavy  sabots  en- 
closing his  singularly  small  feet — there  stood  none  other 
than  the  Marquis  de  Kerdougaszt  himself,  a  smile  light- 
ing his  entire  countenance  as  the  children  dismounted 
and  approached  him. 

"The  dog  will  not  hurt  you  while  I  am  here,"  he 
called  out  to  them,  bowing  with  a  grace  and  ease  which 
would  assuredly  have  instantly  enlightened  older  visitors 
as  to  their  interlocutor's  real  social  standing,  though  he 
spoke  in  Breton,  and  used  the  countrified  form  of  ad- 
dress, to  which  they  were  accustomed  from  inferiors,  as 
he  proceeded  to  welcome  them. 

A  finer  picture  than  that  presented  by  this  magnificent 
old  man  holding  his  magnificent  dog  by  the  collar  on  the 
threshold  of  his  magnificently  ruined  castle  would  have 
been  difficult  to  imagine.  Even  the  children  were  im- 
pressed after  their  gay,  thoughtless  fashion,  and  Loic,  un- 
covering his  bright  locks,  advanced,  followed  by  Gaidik, 
with  a  certain  hesitation  and  embarrasment  quite  foreign 
to  him. 

"We  did  not  know  that  anybody  lived  in  the  castle," 
he  said,  apologetically.  "  Old  Mam-goz  Mar-Jann  Kerion, 
at  the  farm  below,  told  us  there  were  only  fairies  here, 
and  so  we  came;  but  if  it  is  not  allowed  we  will  go  right 
back.  I  am  Loic  de  Kergoat,  and  this  is  my  sister 
Gaidik,"  he  concluded,  with  a  sudden  impulse  of  in- 
stinctive decorum  which  a  mere  peasant  certainly  would 
not  have  aroused. 

"Oh,  you  are  Loic  de  Kergoat,  and  this  is  your  sister 

69 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

Gaidik!  Well,  and  I  am  the  Marquis  de  Kerdougaszt, 
though  you  may  perchance  find  it  difficult  to  believe, 
my  boy." 

"Not  at  all,"  was  the  frank  and  ready  reply.  "You 
look  as  if  you  were ;  you  have  an  air  about  you,  and  your 
voice  is  soft  and  slow.  It  is  only  we  Nobles  who  have 
that  sort  of  music  in  our  voices." 

The  old  Marquis  laughed,  well  pleased  and  perfectly 
aware  that  he  had  just  received  the  prettiest  compli- 
ment that  life  had  ever  brought  him. 

"  Ha!  ha!"  he  cried;  "you  have  noticed  that,  have  you ? 
You  are  a  sharp  little  man,  and  now  you  must  come  into 
my  palatial  abode  and  refresh  yourselves,  for  you  must 
both  be  thirsty  and  hungry — small  folks  like  yourselves 
always  are.  If  I  rummage  around  a  bit,  I  will  no  doubt 
find  something  worthy  of  your  appetites.  You  shall 
have  some  of  my  nice  brown  bread  and  butter — we  baked 
yesterday — and  my  old  servant  will  make  you  some 
galette  de  ble  noir*  She  makes  them  beautifully  when  she 
is  not  cross — which,  alas!  now  and  then  happens — so  let 
us  trust  that  to-day  is  one  of  the  auspicious  occasions." 

Then  he  called  aloud:  "Marc'haid!  Marc'haid!  here 
are  some  little  people  who  want  to  taste  your  galette," 
leading  the  way,  as  he  did  so,  to  a  side  door  exquisitely 
carved  and  porched.  A  white-capped  old  woman  showed 
herself  for  a  second,  grumbled  something  quite  inarticu- 
late, and  again  disappeared  into  the  warm  penumbra. 

"There  now!"  exclaimed  her  master,  with  a  comical 
uplifting  of  his  delicately  shaped  but  sadly  toil  -  worn 
hands,  "she  is  cross,  after  all,  our  good  Marc'haid;  but 
don't  mind  her,  my  dearies!  She'll  come  round  by-and- 
by  and  behave  quite  properly." 

*  Buckwheat  cakes. 
7° 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

The  children  laughed.  "She  must  be  my  fairy  god- 
mother!" Gaidik  explained,  "since  we  have  the  same 
name*  and  this  is  the  castle  of  the  fairies." 

"Well,  she  does  look  a  bit  like  la  Fee  Carabosse"  the 
Marquis  remarked,  gravely;  "so  we  must  not  let  her 
make  you  any  evil  gifts — but  come  in,  come  in,  and  wel- 
come to  Kerdougaszt.  Your  fairy  godmother  is  a  very 
good  woman  when  one  knows  her  better.  I  have  known 
her  all  my  life — a  long  one — she  was  my  nurse.  Let  me 
see!  She  is  just  seventeen  years  older  than  I  am,  from 
which  notable  fact  we  can  by  an  artful  calculation  de- 
rive the  extenuating  circumstance  that  she  is  now  just 
seventy-nine  years  old,  and  persons  so  aged  are  naturally 
cross  from  having  taken  the  trouble  to  live  so  long." 

Entirely  set  at  ease  by  their  host's  delightful  banter, 
the  children  followed  him  into  a  vast  kitchen  panelled 
and  ceiled  with  oak,  illumined  by  a  huge  fire  of  pine 
cones  and  needles,  which  crackled  and  leaped  beneath 
the  emblazoned  mantel  of  a  gigantic  granite  hearth. 
The  place  was  rather  bare  of  furniture — that  is  of  the 
furniture  ordinarily  encountered  in  a  kitchen — but  all 
around  it  were  ranged  antique  knight's  stalls  of  singular 
beauty,  and  in  a  state  of  remarkable  preservation,  while 
a  few  old  banners,  gorgeously  embroidered  with  now 
faded  silks  and  gold,  drooped  above  an  equally  venerable 
dresser,  where  some  heavy  tankards,  dishes,  and  salvers 
of  old  silver  gleamed  between  many  odd  pieces  of  the 
brilliantly  colored,  heavy  earthenware  which  Breton  peas- 
ants use,  and  which  looked  strangely  incongruous  in  such 
company. 

Standing  before  the  ponderous  table  in  the  middle  of 
this  extraordinary  apartment  stood  old  Marc'haid,  vio- 

*  Marc'haid,  in  diminutive  Gaidik,  Breton  for  Marguerite. 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

lently  beating  the  batter  for  the  galette  in  a  wooden 
bowl,  her  wrinkled  face  as  set  and  rigid  as  if  she  were 
engaged  in  some  murderous  assault  upon  an  execrated 
enemy." 

"There,  there!"  said  her  master,  affectionately,  pat- 
ting her  shoulder.  "There,  there,  there,  old  lady!  Just 
look  up  and  see  what  nice  little  guests  you  are  working 
for!  Isn't  it  a  pity  to  be  so  grumpy  under  the  circum- 
stances?" 

The  irate  dame,  partially  conquered  by  the  gentle 
chiding  of  the  tone,  did  as  she  was  bidden,  and,  catching 
the  honest  inquisitiveness  and  astonishment  of  the  two 
pairs  of  big  gray  eyes  fixed  upon  her,  burst  into  dry, 
cackling  laughter. 

"Marc'haid  is  disarmed!  Sound  the  trumpets,  beat 
the  drums,  peace  is  declared!"  cried  the  Marquis,  tri- 
umphantly. "And  now,  my  children,  while  your  gaieties 
are  being  prepared,  come  and  see  my  observatory."  With 
which  words  he  drew  them  to  the  embrasure  of  a  long 
lancet- window,  raised  from  the  floor  by  two  steps. 

"Now  look,"  he  said,  with  pardonable  pride  in  his 
voice,  as  he  stretched  his  hand  towards  the  magnificent 
panorama  unfolded  before  them. 

Far,  far  below  the  shelving,  verdant  woods  and  stretch- 
ing out  to  infinite  horizons  was  the  distant  sea,  studded 
with  sails,  the  capriciously  curving  shores  extending  on 
both  sides  into  realms  of  softly  sparkling  light,  with  here 
and  there  a  rocky  island  showing  dimly  as  a  dream  above 
the  waves.  The  whole  picture  was  a  dazzle  of  gold,  of 
emerald,  and  of  sapphire,  and  familiar  as  the  children 
were  with  this  beautiful  Breton  sea  and  land,  they  yet 
exclaimed  aloud  in  their  admiration. 

"Ah,  yes,  it  is  grand!"  chimed  in  their  host;  "and 
one  should  not  complain  when  one  has  such  a  spectacle 

72 


THE    TRJDENT   AND   THE    NET 

to  admire  every  day  of  one's  life.  You,  too,  at  Ker- 
goat  have  a  magnificent  view.  I  have  not  been  there 
since  your  grandmother's  time,  but  I  remember  it  well. 
Dear  me,  what  a  lovely  woman  your  grandmother  was 
in  those  days!  To  be  sincere,  you  are  very  much  like 
her,  Mademoiselle  Marc'haid." 

"I!"  exclaimed  the  amazed  Gaidik,  in  genuine  aston- 
ishment. "No,  no,  I  am  very  ugly!  But  do  pray, 
Monsieur  de  Kerdougaszt,  say  Gaidik  or  Gaid!  Every- 
body does  so,  and  I'm  only  called  by  my  full  name  when 
I  have  been  very  naughty." 

"Well  then,  my  little  Gaid,  so  you  are  sometimes 
naughty,  and  you  consider  yourself  ugly,  eh?" 

"Of  course!  Mamma  always  says  that  I'm  a  disgrace 
to  everybody.  She,  you  know,  is  very,  very  beautiful." 

"I  know!  I  know!  She  created  a  great  sensation 
when  she  arrived  in  Brittany  after  her  marriage.  And 
how  is  madame  your  mamma,  my  dears ;  quite  well  I  trust  ?" 

"Quite  well,"  echoed  Loic,  who  was  leaning  confiding- 
ly against  the  old  Marquis's  knee,  as  he  sat  on  the  broad 
window-sill.  "  Why  do  you  never  come  to  see  us,  Mon- 
sieur? I  would  like  to  show  you  my  boat,  my  four-in- 
hand  of  Exmoor  ponies,  my  garden,  and  all  my  things, 
and,"  he  added,  politely,  "I'm  sure  mamma  would  be 
much  pleased  to  see  you." 

"Hum!  hum!"  Monsieur  de  Kerdougaszt  muttered; 
"I  am  not  so  very  sure  of  that,  and  although  I  would 
undoubtedly  enjoy  the  sight  of  all  your  treasures,  yet  I 
cannot  promise  to  come.  I  am  a  regular  hermit,  my 
boy,  and  I  never,  never  go  anywhere." 

"Why?"  Loic  asked,  eagerly.  "Do  you  hate  all  man- 
kind, like  my  Uncle  Pierre,  who  says  that  since  France 
is  a  republic,  the  country  has  gone  to  the  devil,  and  no- 
body is  fit  to  speak  to." 

6  73 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

The  old  Marquis  burst  into  a  roar  of  laughter.  "You 
funny,  old-fashioned  child!"  he  fairly  gasped.  "Yes,  I 
am  much  of  your  Uncle  Pierre's  opinion.  But  that  is 
not  all,"  he  continued,  when  he  had  recovered  his  breath, 
"I'm  too  poor  to  visit  those  of  my  equals  who  are  more 
fortunate  than  myself;  that  would  humiliate  both  them 
and  me." 

"  Poor!  with  such  a  magnificent  castle!"  the  incredulous 
Loic  cried.  "That's  not  possible!" 

"But  my  magnificent  castle  is  in  ruins,  Loic.  This 
room  and  one  other  are  the  only  safe  ones  to  inhabit;  all 
the  rest  have  long  been  given  up  to  the  owls  and  the 
rats,  who,  if  the  ceilings  fall  down,  will  not  prove  a  great 
loss." 

Loic  bent  forward,  a  sudden  awe,  a  swift  wave  of  sad- 
ness spreading  over  his  features, 

"And  are  you  living  all  alone  here  with  your  old 
nurse?"  he  asked,  almost  in  a  whisper,  "without  any- 
body to  talk  to  you  and  amuse  you?" 

His  expression  was  so  grave  and  so  wistful,  that  the 
Marquis,  deeply  touched,  impulsively  kissed  the  smooth 
forehead  nestling  against  his  broad  shoulder. 

"No,  my  good  little  friend,  it  is  not  as  bad  as  that 
by  far.  Don't  waste  your  pity,  for  I  have  my  own  two 
sons  always  with  me  here,  and  very  excellent  companions 
they  are,  too." 

"Two  little  boys?  Where  are  they?  Why  don't  you 
call  them,  Monsieur;  perhaps  they  would  like  to  try  our 
ponies,  and,  also,  I  smell  the  gaieties  frying;  don't  they 
want  any  gaieties?" 

Again  the  Marquis  laughed  heartily.  "They  are  big 
men,  my  boy,  and  they  are  working  just  now  in  the 
woods  —  but  here  is  the  Fee  Carabosse  preparing  to 
ring  the  bell  which  summons  them  home.  You  can 

74 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

share  your  gaieties  with  them,  and  I  feel  certain  that 
they  will  admire  the  ponies,  so  all  will  be  for  the  best." 

Gaidik,  her  brows  drawn  together,  perplexed  and 
vaguely  sorrowful,  was  gazing  at  him  with  great  sym- 
pathetic eyes.  His  own  eyes  smiled  at  her,  and,  taking 
the  little  hand  nearest  to  him,  he  patted  it  with  grand- 
fatherly  tenderness. 

"Some  day,"  he  remarked,  softly,  "you  will  make  a 
man  very  happy,  my  little  Gaidik.  Unless  I  am  much 
mistaken,  in  spite  of  Madame  votre  Mere's  gloomy  fore- 
bodings, you  are  going  to  develop  into  that  rare  and 
precious  being,  a  real  Grande  Dame,"  and  he  raised  her 
little,  sunburned  fingers  to  his  lips  as  gravely  and  cour- 
teously as  if  his  prophecy  had  already  come  true. 

At  that  moment  the  promised  bell  began  to  clang  deaf- 
eningly  outside  the  kitchen  door,  rung  by  old  Marc'haid, 
who  was  jerking  its  long  chain  with  no  gentle  hand. 
Flocks  of  pigeons  rose  from  the  ivy-grown  ruins  at  the 
clamor,  and  shortly  afterwards  heavy  steps  were  heard 
approaching. 

"Is  that  our  groom?"  asked  Loic,  turning  away  from 
the  window. 

"No,  your  groom  is  provided  for.  I  took  the  liberty 
of  sending  him  back  to  Mar-Jann  Kerion's  farm,  telling 
him  to  come  again  at  five  o'clock,  which  will  be  quite 
soon  enough  for  us  to  have  to  bid  you  good-bye.  Mar- 
Jann  is  my  debtor  for  a  few  little  things,  and  will  give 
him  a  good  dinner  as  well  as  feed  the  horses  much  better 
than  it  could  have  been  done  here.  It  is  my  big  boys 
whom  you  hear,  and  there  they  are  to  answer  for  them- 
selves." 

The  two  young  men  who  entered  were  both  equally 
tall,  fair,  and  handsome,  with  delicate  features,  clean- 
shaven faces,  dark-gray  eyes,  and  proudly  curved  mouths, 

75 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

disclosing,  when  smiling,  wonderfully  white  teeth.  Like 
their  father,  they  were  extremely  broad-shouldered  and 
slender-waisted,  and  also  like  him  wore  the  most  ordi- 
nary of  peasant  costumes.  One  bore  on  his  shoulder  a 
woodman's  axe,  while  the  other  carried  with  the  great- 
est ease  a  rough  and  exceedingly  heavy  sawyer's  trestle. 

These,  the  last  of  the  Kerdougaszts,  were  patient  - 
looking  men,  having  the  quiet  gaze  of  those  who  deal 
with  nature  and  the  slow,  graceful  movements  of  the 
keen-sighted.  Truly  these  two  perfect  representatives  of 
Brittany's  ancient  Aristocracy  were  behind  the  times — 
these  new  and  wordy  times  in  which  France,  once 
so  glorious,  has  floundered  disastrously  for  above  of  a 
century — for  they  were  very  silent.  Their  father  had 
seen  his  country  humbled  to  the  dust  by  idle  babble, 
and  the  sight  had  taught  him  to  dry  up  in  his  children 
the  springs  of  idle  speech.  When  they  had  anything  to 
say,  they  said  it,  but  if  they  had  nothing  really  worthy  of 
mention,  they  kept  those  proud  lips  of  theirs  obstinately 
closed.  Fate  and  their  father's  will  had  ruled  that  these 
two  superb  gars  should  have  no  wider  sphere  than 
an  obscure  Breton  forest,  though  they  were  obviously 
created  to  shine  in  the  great  world's  gilded  arena,  and 
yet  they  were  absolutely  content,  for  they  were  restful 
men,  strong  enough  to  rely  upon  life's  most  ordinary 
duties,  well  accomplished,  to  satisfy  their  consciences. 
Moreover,  their  ancestors  had  assuredly  handed  down  to 
them,  with  their  clear-cut  profiles  and  gigantic  stature, 
a  philosophy  which  exalts  above  all  things  the  forest 
life,  the  strife  with  elemental  forces  and  its  resulting 
daring  and  intrepidity,  no  less  than  the  simple  joys  and 
the  sense  of  infinite  peace  that  are  to  be  found,  like  shy 
wood  blossoms,  in  the  forest  twilight. 

They  evinced  no  ill-bred  surprise  at  finding  their  lone- 

76 


THE   TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

ly  house  invaded  by  such  unusual  visitors,  but  with 
grave  and  winning  courtesy  made  them  feel  that  they 
were  sincerely  welcome,  and  that  their  presence  was  a 
rare  and  valuable  pleasure.  There  was  a  striking  re- 
semblance of  feature  between  the  Kerdougaszts,  but  the 
father  was  gayer,  quicker  in  his  glance,  and  under  most 
circumstances  it  would  undoubtedly  fall  to  the  younger 
men's  lot  to  execute  that  which  their  father  had  planned. 
Indeed,  in  spite  of  his  rough  attire,  the  old  Kerdougaszt's 
presence  suggested  the  Court,  while  his  sons  were  clearly 
intended  for  the  camp.  The  Marquis  had  in  his  day 
passed  through  both,  and  had  emerged  with  set  ideas  and 
adamantine  principles,  of  which  his  sons'  whole  natures 
were  the  result. 

The  little  party  which  gathered  around  the  great 
kitchen  table  to  partake  of  Dame  Marc'haid's  fragrant 
gaieties  was  absolutely  unlike  anything  the  children 
had  ever  seen  before,  but,  unknown  to  themselves,  Loic 
and  Gaidik  felt  more  "at  home"  there  than  they  did  in 
the  company  of  their  mother  and  their  mother's  splendid 
friends.  They  could  not  have  given  a  name  to  the 
superiority  which  fascinated  them  in  their  three  hosts, 
but  somehow  or  other  they  realized  its  extraordinary 
charm,  which  would  have  made  all  strictly  modern  peo- 
ple seem  vulgar,  and  they  both  expanded  and  were 
happy  beneath  its  influence. 

"Oh!"  Gaidik  suddenly  said  to  the  Marquis,  beside 
whom  she  sat,  "how  happy  you  are  to  live  here  all  the 
time,  to  be  always  in  the  woods  or  on  the  sea,  and  never 
to  have  to  go  away  into  the  noise  and  dust.  I  wish 
mamma  would  let  us  come  and  stay  with  you  for  a  long, 
long  time!" 

The  big  men  laughed,  but  they  were  evidently  touched, 
for  all  the  conflicting  thoughts  striving  together  in  the 

77 


THE    TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

children's  little  minds,  vivid  in  fancy  and  childish  in 
ignorance,  were  very  apparent  and  moved  the  three 
Aristocrats  to  an  emotion  which  was  quite  indescribable. 
The  simple  meal  was  drawing  to  a  close,  and  when  they 
rose  from  the  table,  Loic  asked  eagerly  to  be  shown  the 
rest  of  the  castle.  The  gates  of  an  enchanted  world 
were  standing  open  before  him,  and  he,  like  Gaidik,  was 
anxious  to  see  what  lay  beyond  them.  Indeed,  they 
both  looked  up  into  their  new  friend's  face  with  such 
frank  audacity,  such  wistful  innocence,  that,  even  though 
the  display  of  so  much  fallen  grandeur,  so  much  stoi- 
cally born  poverty,  must  necessarily  be  painful,  yet  the 
old  Nobleman  never  dreamed  of  refusing  their  request, 
and  instantly  led  the  way  into  the  dismantled  building. 
This  was  going  into  fairyland  indeed,  for  the  children's 
natural  sense  of  the  beauties  of  form  and  color  was 
aroused  by  the  magnificent  proportions  of  these  grand 
halls  which  had  all  the  subdued  glow  of  old  jewels.  The 
mellow  light  of  verdure-shaded  sun-rays  shed  a  soft 
hue  upon  the  pathetic  misery  of  the  brave  old  house, 
bearing  its  misfortune  in  dignified  isolation.  Here  and 
there  some  remnants  of  tapestries  still  clung  to  the  walls 
of  the  state  apartments,  the  colossal  figures  faintly  vis- 
ible upon  the  worn-out  warp  seeming  the  phantoms  of 
a  spirit-world.  Nearly  all  the  window-panes  —  painted 
long  ago  by  a  master's  hand — were  cracked  or  broken, 
and  had  been  patched  with  thick,  common  glass  or  re- 
placed by  boards.  One  cedar-lined  room  which  had 
been  the  boudoir  of  the  Chatelaines  of  Kerdougaszt,  dis- 
played on  its  carved  and  delicately  gilded  panels  the 
arms  of  Brittany  emblazoned  in  pale  with  those  of  the 
resident  family — a  reminder  of  some  Royal  alliance — but 
its  costly  parquetted  floor  had  fallen  in,  leaving  bare  the 
indestructible  oaken  beams  which  alone  had  resisted  the 

78 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

cruel  hand  of  time.  Here  a  host  of  bats,  terrified  by 
the  visitors  standing  on  the  abysmal  threshold,  flew  from 
their  dusky  perches  in  the  crevices  of  the  ceiling  and 
circled  wildly  about,  dipping  and  plunging  madly  in  and 
out  of  a  depending  veil  of  gray  cobwebs;  but  neither  of 
the  children  laughed,  they  were  too  much  awed  for  that, 
and  when  the  old  Marquis  turned  away  with  a  smothered 
sigh  he  felt  two  little  hands  slide  simultaneously  into 
each  of  his  own  in  a  silent  and  restrained  sympathy, 
which  was  infinitely  tender  and  grateful. 

"Now,  my  dears,"  he  said,  in  studiously  cheerful  tones, 
for  the  momentary  silence  of  these  bright  little  creatures 
had  something  strangely  pathetic  about  it,  "we  will  go 
and  see  the  chapel.  That  we  have  preserved  from  all 
serious  harm  so  far,  my  sons  and  I,  and  although  its 
original  splendor  is  greatly  impaired,  we  have  endeavored 
to  make  God's  resting-place  among  us  still  habitable,  as 
it  was  the  duty  of  good  Catholics  to  do." 

The  children,  following  him  down -stairs,  listened  with 
reverent  ears  and  beating  hearts.  They  felt  as  if  they 
were  hearing  Kadoc's  oft-told  stories  of  how  their  fore- 
fathers had  died  grandly  and  fearlessly  on  the  scaffold, 
in  the  noyades,  or  in  the  slaughter  of  Quiberon,  for  the 
very  air  of  that  ruined  home  was  redolent  of  courage, 
dignity,  and  fidelity,  and  the  words  of  this  old  Marquis, 
whose  existence  was  now  so  narrow,  whose  means  were 
so  terribly  straitened,  whose  days  were  regulated  with 
the  exact  and  severe  precision  of  mere  peasanthood, 
thrilled  them  to  the  very  core  of  their  little  souls. 

The  same  intoxicating  perfume  of  the  past  surrounded 
them  as  they  entered  the  tiny  sacred  edifice,  the  whole 
front  of  which  was  covered  with  a  vigorous  climbing 
rose,  throwing  its  audacious  branches  upward  to  the 
very  cross  upon  the  carefully  mended  roof,  thus  conceal- 

79 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

ing  the  somewhat  amateurish  handiwork  of  the  Marquis 
and  his  sons.  Dark  and  tranquil  it  was  inside,  and  rilled 
with  an  undying  fragrance  of  incense  lingering  amid 
the  damp  of  ages.  The  altar  of  pure  twelfth  -  century 
work  was  decorated  with  fresh  flowers;  above  it  was  a 
wonderful  crucifix  of  ivory  and  silver,  and  through  the 
wide-opened  panel  of  a  transept  window  the  smell  of  the 
pine  woods  and  the  songs  of  birds  floated  freely  in. 

At  the  door  they  were  joined  by  Gui  and  Yvon  de 
Kerdougaszt,  who  were  waiting  to  bid  the  children  good- 
bye before  returning  to  their  labor  in  the  forest,  and  at 
a  sign  from  their  father  they  also  entered  the  little 
chapel,  where  they  all  knelt  down  together.  Slowly  the 
Marquis  repeated  the  Chapelet,  his  sons  giving  the  re- 
sponses in  their  clear,  full,  far-reaching  voices,  fervently, 
with  all  their  hearts,  and  in  Breton — the  only  language 
they  spoke.  A  nightingale  was  singing  somewhere  in  the 
big  hawthorn-tree  outside  the  windows,  and  some  long 
tendrils  of  honeysuckle  which  had  forced  themselves  into 
a  narrow  cranny  opened  in  the  massive  wall  by  a  thou- 
sand years  of  sea-wind,  thrust  their  delicately  curled  horns 
of  perfume  around  the  pew  where  the  little  group  knelt- 

The  prayer  finished,  Yvon  and  Gui  preceded  their 
father  to  the  exquisite  holy-water  font,  carved  from  a 
single  block  of  onyx,  and  bending  in  turn  reverently  be- 
fore him,  kissed  the  hand  extended  to  receive  the  precious 
drops,  all  this  with  the  simplicity  due  to  long  habit,  and 
the  passionate  devotion  they  so  visibly  entertained  for 
him.  And  then  they  disappeared  behind  the  dense 
screen  of  trees  and  were  seen  no  more. 

"You  must  have  some  milk  and  brown  bread  and 
butter  before  your  departure,"  the  Marquis  explained  to 
Loic  and  Gaidik,  who  were  wistfully  gazing  after  the 
young  men.  "Come,  we  will  enjoy  these  refreshments 

80 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

far  better  in  the  open  air,  so  we  will  sit  on  my  little  ter- 
race and  tell  la  Fee  Carabosse  to  bring  them  there  at 
once,  since  it  is  already  four  o'clock." 

His  "little  terrace"  was  an  exquisite  place  which 
seemed  to  hang  above  sea  and  woods,  an  antique,  broad, 
and  roomy  open  gallery  covered  by  an  all  -  embracing 
wistaria  in  full  bloom,  where  his  wrinkled,  cross  old  ser- 
vant soon  appeared  bearing  a  heavy  silver  tray,  with 
some  delicious  milk  in  a  carved  silver  pot,  an  appetizing 
brown  loaf,  and  two  exquisite  Sevres  cups,  blue  as  the 
azure  sky. 

"We  have  a  few  things  like  this  left,"  the  Marquis 
said,  touching  the  priceless  toys  gently.  "It  may  be 
nonsense,  but  I  think  that  your  milk  will  taste  better 
out  of  them,"  and,  sitting  on  a  wooden  bench  beside  the 
stone  balustrade  covered  with  its  flowering  creeper,  he 
filled  up  the  cups  with  the  snowy  beverage.  Loic  had 
established  himself  on  the  parapet,  his  feet  hanging 
down,  one  hand  clasping  Gaidik's,  who  seemed  to  have 
fallen  into  one  of  her  dreamiest  moods. 

Suddenly  he  said,  turning  to  the  Marquis,  in  a  quiet, 
speculative,  matter-of-fact  voice:  "How  much  would  it 
cost,  Monsieur  de  Kerdougaszt,  to  make  your  castle  just 
as  it  used  to  be  ?" 

"How  much?"  echoed  the  astounded  gentleman.  "A 
very,  very  great  deal,  my  child.  What  makes  you  ask 
such  a  question  ?" 

"  Because  I  know  that  one  day  Gaidik  and  I  will  have 
a  lot  of  money,  and  I  thought  that  perhaps  you  would 
let  her  marry  one  of  your  boys,  so  that  we  could  give  it 
all  to  you  without  your  being  able  to  refuse.  Then  you 
could  repair  all  the  grand  rooms  and  halls  that  make  you 
sigh  now  when  you  look  at  them." 

The  Marquis  gazed  for  a  moment  at  Loic  without 

81 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

speaking,  then  drawing  him  to  his  knee,  he  said,  in  a 
voice  which  trembled  a  little: 

"You  are  a  very  good  little  man,  Loic,  and  I  sincerely 
appreciate  what  you  said  just  now;  but  listen,  my  boy. 
I  have  sundry  old-fashioned  notions  and  prejudices,  one 
of  which  is,  that  a  man — a  gentilhomme  that  is — should 
owe  nothing  to  his  wife,  and  even  in  the  absolutely  im- 
possible case  of  your  mother's  permitting  her  pretty 
daughter  to  marry  a  penniless  man,  I  would  never  ac- 
cept such  a  sacrifice  on  poor  Gaidik's  part.  My  sons 
have  been  brought  up  as  peasants,  which  is  for  them  far 
more  honorable  than  being  fortune-hunters.  Of  course, 
you  are  too  young  to  understand  all  this,  and  you  prob- 
ably think  me  a  very  severe  and  ungracious  old  cur- 
mudgeon to  speak  as  I  do,  but  later  when  you  are  older 
you  will  realize  the  truth  of  my  words.  The  old  faiths 
still  live,  very  simple,  warm,  and  earnest  in  my  old 
heart,  Loic,  and  I  cannot  change  myself  at  this  late  day! 
We  have  always  been  proud  and  stern,  and  although  our 
family  records  have  often  been  checkered  by  fierce  and 
perchance  lawless  actions,  yet  there  has  never  been  in 
them  any  baseness.  I  may  have  erred  in  my  judgment, 
but  I  have  preferred  to  let  my  sons  grow  up  in  total 
ignorance  of  the  world,  rather  than  strain  every  nerve  and 
sink  our  last  slender  resources  in  order  to  educate  them 
and  open  to  them  the  possibility  of  later  on  selling  their 
names  to  the  highest  bidder." 

The  Marquis  was  now  thinking  aloud  far  more  than 
talking  to  the  children,  who,  however,  seemed  enthralled 
by  his  words,  and  listened,  immovable,  and  with  the  most 
profound  attention,  as  he  continued: 

"  We  owe  nothing  to  anybody.  We  live  like  owls  in  our 
crumbling  watch-tower,  it  is  true,  but  we  are  spared  the 
sight  of  humiliating  compromises,  of  old  and  glorious 

82 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

titles  being  bartered  for  the  ill-gotten  wealth  of  the 
Haute-Banque  and  nouveaux  riches.  My  sons  can  scarcely 
read  and  write,  they  toil  all  day  long  to  obtain  by  the 
sweat  of  their  brows  the  meagre  fare  with  which  they 
are  content,  but  we  have  all  three  remained  worthy 
of  the  past,  and  if  our  race  dies  with  them,  at  any  rate 
it  will  end  worthily,  instead  of  finishing  in  the  mud,  as 
so  many  as  great  have  done.  I  would  sooner  see  them 
both  stretched  lifeless  before  me  at  this  minute  than  know 
it  otherwise." 

The  old  Nobleman's  voice  had  become  almost  trium- 
phant in  its  intensity,  but  suddenly  remembering  that  he 
was  speaking  to  two  children  who,  clever  though  they 
were,  could  not  possibly  comprehend  his  theme,  he 
checked  himself,  gave  a  reassuring  pat  to  Loic's  shoulder, 
and  began  anew  in  a  different  key,  making  them  laugh 
heartily  with  descriptions  of  his  daily  existence  recounted 
with  the  exquisite  humor  and  genuine  wit  of  a  man 
whose  spirit  had  remained  young,  and  who  did  not  cloy 
his  good  taste  by  cheap  literature  and  the  perusal  of 
daily  newspapers. 

He  told  them  of  another  old  Nobleman,  who,  poorer 
even  than  himself,  and  living  all  alone  in  one  room  of 
the  once  sumptuous  Hotel  which  from  time  immemorial 
had  belonged  to  his  family,  crept  at  the  dead  of  night  out 
of  the  small  Breton  town  where  it  was  situated,  in  order 
to  gather  from  a  neighboring  wood  dead  branches  and 
bracken  for  his  fire.  "Poor  old  fellow,"  he  concluded, 
"he  carries  it  home  on  his  shoulders,  stealthily,  fearfully, 
like  a  thief,  gliding  along  the  dark  ramparts,  bent  al- 
most double  under  the  weight,  and  the  good  people  of  the 
neighborhood  think  that  that  wood  is  haunted  by  a  mis- 
shapen gnome,  because  he  has  been  occasionally  glimpsed 
from  afar  bending  forlornly  over  the  little  heaps  of  pine- 

83 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

cones  he  builds  under  the  trees.  Oh,  we  are  a  fine  lot, 
aren't  we,  with  our  infernal  pride  ?  Why,  that  man  who 
has  twelve  hundred  years  of  pedigree  behind  him  feeds 
principally  on  mushrooms,  which  he  gathers  before  sun- 
rise in  the  fields,  and  yet  he  refuses  disdainfully  to  sell 
one  footstool  of  the  magnificent  ancient  furniture  with 
which  his  creviced  Hotel  is  filled.  Isn't  it  curious  ?" 

"You  need  never  be  without  a  good  fire,  Monsieur, 
with  all  this  forest  around  your  castle,"  Loic  remarked, 
practically,  with  a  wise  little  nod  of  the  head,  "which  is 
a  great  comfort  in  winter." 

"Right  you  are,  my  boy.  Very  well  said.  It  has 
indeed  been  often  a  great  comfort  when  there  was  little 
else  to  brighten  one  up.  But  here,  alas,  are  your  horses, 
a  fact  I  truly  regret,  for  you,  too,  have  been  a  great  com- 
fort this  day." 

"Already  here,"  Gaidik  said,  with  a  sigh.  "'Pray, 
Monsieur  de  Kerdougaszt,"  she  whispered,  standing  on 
tiptoe  beside  him,  while  Loic  ran  forward  to  pat  his  be- 
loved pony.  "If  by  any  chance  you  were  to  change 
your  mind — and  if  you  could  get  to  like  me — I  would  be 
very  .pleased  to  marry  either  Gui  or  Yvon  when  I  am 
older,  because  what  Loic  said  is  true;  it  is  a  pity  not  to 
repair  your  castle — and  also  I  would  be  always  so  near 
Loic.  I  do  not  wish  to  marry  at  all,  but  if  I  am  obliged 
to  do  so—" 

"Upon  my  word,"  the  old  Noble  murmured,  "you  are 
the  most  amazing  children  I  have  ever  met,  but  your 
little  hearts  are  certainly  in  the  right  place.  If  I  were 
you,  however,  Gaidik,  I  would  not  tell  this  to  your 
beautiful  mamma,  for  I  do  not  think  that  such  a  plan 
would  quite  meet  with  her  approval,  and  you  might  be 
scolded." 

"I  am  always  being  scolded,"  the  child  replied,  philo- 

84 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

sophically.  "  Not  that  I  do  not  often  deserve  it,  though," 
she  added,  in  explanation.  Then  she  bent  down  to  pat 
the  lean,  intelligent  head  of  the  huge  wolf-hound.  "  Good- 
bye Bull-C'Hurun"  (Thunder -bolt),  she  said,  tenderly, 
"you  are  as  good  as  you  can  be,  just  like  everybody  else 
here,"  and  again  she  sighed. 

"Bull-C'Hurun,  just  like  everybody  else  here,  will 
be  glad  to  see  you  again,  my  dear,  as  soon  as  possible," 
the  Marquis  said,  kissing  her  tenderly  before  lifting  her 
into  her  saddle,  and  then  turning  to  the  groom,  he  added: 
"Take  good  care  of  them,  Gradlon,  they  are  worth  the 
whole  country-side  put  together!" 

"Have  no  fear,  M'sieu  1'Marquis,"  that  trusty  function-^ 
ary  replied,  respectfully  touching  his  hat.  "I  followed 
the  guidon  with  my  late  Lord,  and  the  Lady  Marc'haid 
as  well  as  my  young  Lord  Loic  Ab-Vor  (Loic,  son  of  the 
sea)  are  as  safe  with  me  as  if  they  were  my  own  children, 
though  it's  difficult  sometimes  to  keep  up  with  them," 
he  concluded,  with  a  look  of  affectionate  pride  in  the 
direction  of  the  brother  and  sister,  who,  having  said 
their  last  good-byes  and  uttered  their  last  heart -felt 
thanks,  were  disappearing  at  their  usual  breakneck  pace 
down  the  steep  path. 

The  sun  was  not  as  bright  as  it  had  been,  or  perchance 
it  only  seemed  so  to  the  children,  who  were  genuinely 
sorry  to  leave  Kerdougaszt,  but  the  home  ride  could  not 
but  be  delightful  through  those  deep,  fragrant  woods, 
and  they  welcomed  Gradlon's  proposal  to  return  by  a 
different  road  than  that  traversed  in  the  morning;  and 
so,  eagerly  discussing  the  events  of  the  day,  Loic  and 
Gaidik  brushed  their  way  rapidly  through  the  forest  growth. 

Half  an  hour  later  they  came  upon  a  wooded  rock, 
crowned  by  a  quaint  little  gray  tower,  picturesque,  aged, 
cloister-like,  with  an  abundance  of  ivy  clothing  it  in  brill- 

85 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

iantly  dark  greenery.  Half  of  it  was  in  ruins,  and  one  of 
its  pointed  gables  showed  a  deep  oval  embrasure  cur- 
tained by  coils  of  ivy  and  wild  clematis  hanging  down 
across  the  aperture. 

"That  is  Saint  Gwenole's  shrine,  Monsieur  Loic,"  said 
the  groom,  overtaking  the  children,  and  piously  remov- 
ing his  hat. 

"Oh!  is  it  Saint  Gwenole  who  saved  your  namesake 
King  Gradlon's  life  from  the  waves?"  cried  Gaidik,  to 
whom  every  ancient  legend  of  Brittany  was  known. 

"Yes,  Mademoiselle  Gaidik,  and  a  mighty  good  King 
he  was,"  the  groom  answered,  pointing  with  his  hunting- 
crop.  "They  say  that  on  moonlight  nights  one  sees 
King  Gradlon  and  his  ladylove  Dahut  go  up  that  crazy 
flight  of  steps  there  to  pray  with  the  Saint." 

"We  must  come  at  night  and  see  if  that's  true,"  Loic 
declared,  enthusiastically — "but  hark,  what's  that  noise 
over  there  behind  those  big  trees  ?  A  lot  of  people  sing- 
ing?" 

Indeed,  above  the  low,  sweet,  entangled  music  of  the 
forest  a  host  of  human  voices  was  becoming  more  and 
more  audible,  singing  a  sombre  and  solemn  Maronad 
(funeral  chant.) 

"  It  must  be  Monsieur  le  Comte  de  LoskofTs  funeral 
passing  along  through  the  woods  to  reach  the  family  tomb 
to-morrow  morning.  He  died  at  his  sister's  place,  and 
they  have  had  to  bring  the  body  all  the  way  back  by 
ox -team,"  was  Gradlon's  explanation. 

"God  rest  his  soul,"  murmured  both  children,  reverent- 
ly crossing  themselves,  and  as  the  voices  grew  more  dis- 
tinct they  urged  their  ponies  through  the  leafy  dell  sur- 
rounding Saint  Gwenole's  ruined  shrine,  and  leaped  over 
a  hedge  upon  a  winding  road,  where  a  double  row  of  tall 
beech-trees  with  wide -stretching  arms  and  moss-grown 

86 


THE    TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

trunks  threw  deep  shadows,  checkered  with  pale  golden 
sunbeams. 

Round  a  bend  of  this  sylvan  path  a  long  procession 
was  advancing  with  slow,  even  pace.  In  front  of  the 
two  double  files  of  peasants,  one  of  men,  the  other  of 
women,  all  holding  great  rosaries  in  their  clasped  hands, 
and  wearing  the  customary  long,  hooded,  mourning 
cloaks  of  black  cloth,  the  men  bare-headed,  but  the 
women  with  their  white  coiffes  hidden  by  the  sombre 
hoods,  came  a  low  ox-cart  draped  with  gorse -fringed 
sheets  of  white  linen  and  drawn  by  twenty-four  snow- 
white  oxen,  whose  horns  had  been  blackened  and  pol- 
ished. Upon  each  beast  a  white  sheet  was  fastened  by 
thick  ropes  of  gorse  blossoms  and  drooped  almost  to  the 
ground  in  lax  folds,  while  twenty -four  men,  one  at  each 
side  of  every  pair,  walked  along,  holding  tall  branches  of 
gorse  and  oak  tied  with  streamers  of  crape.  In  the 
middle  of  the  cart  the  white-sheeted  coffin  reposed  on  a 
bed  of  thickly  strewn  white  heather  and  golden  gorse, 
which  national  blooms  were  also  entwined  above  it  in  a 
broad,  flat  cross. 

Breaking  suddenly  on  the  woodland  solitude,  this 
quaint  pageant  seemed  called  up  by  some  enchantment, 
and  the  children  stood  breathlessly  gazing  at  it  in  amaze- 
ment and  awe;  then  as  it  drew  nearer  they  dismounted 
and  knelt  reverently  down  on  the  mossy  wayside  while 
Gradlon,  with  head  uncovered  and  bending  to  his  saddle- 
bow, held  the  two  ponies  behind  them. 

With  one  accord  the  eyes  of  all  the  mourners  turned 
upon  the  kneeling  children,  and  a  tall,  fair  man,  who  was 
walking  alone  immediately  behind  the  coffin,  wearing 
the  full  uniform  of  a  naval  lieutenant,  his  plumed  hat  be- 
neath his  arm  and  his  sword  heavily  knotted  with  crape, 
bowed  low  to  them. 

87 


THE    TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

This  was  the  dead  man's  brother,  now  himself  Comte  de 
Loskoff,  and  heir  to  the  superb  chateau  they  knew  so 
well,  and  where  they  had  so  often  enjoyed  the  free  range 
of  the  park  and  gardens  and  of  the  long  terraces  over- 
looking the  sea — a  wilderness  of  flowers,  enclosing  one 
of  the  finest  castles  in  Brittany. 

There  was  unutterable  desolation  in  the  chant  intoned 
by  the  dead  Count's  loyal  vassals,  and  tears  gathered  in 
the  eyes  of  the  Kergoat  children,  for  the  last  time  they 
had  seen  him  he  had  laughed  gayly  and  caressed  them, 
waving  his  hand  and  calling  out  a  merry  Au  Revoir  as 
they  galloped  away.  This  tide  of  recollection  rushed  with 
painful  force  upon  them  as  they  listened  to  the  pathetic 
heroic  words  of  the  interminable  Maronad  : 

"Raven,  death-black  bird  of  Fate, 
Beak  of  blood  and  eyes  of  hate, 

Why,   oh  why 

Thus  to  rend  our  hearts  in  twain 
On  thy  path  of  woe  and  pain 

Dost  thou  fly? 

"Ah,  our  Master  I     None  were  seen 
Who  could  match  thy  princely  mien 

This  many  a  day. 
Yet  we,  thus  assembled,  pass, 
'Neath  a  menhir  in  the  grass 

Thy  head  to  lay. 

"Gentle  soul,  now  freed  from  chain, 
Who  could  draw  the  bridle  rein 

Like  to  thee? 

Midst  the  knightly  throngs  that  were 
Who  could  strike  the  knightly  spur 

As  eagerly  ? 

*'  Ah,  that  mailed  in  panoply 
Death  should  cross  his  sword  with  thee 
A  stronger  foe! 
88 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

Loskoff,  weep!  through  farm  and  stead, 
Loskoff,  weep!  thy  father's  head 
Lieth  low. 

41  Ah,  our  Master!  dead  with  thee 
Light  and  life  droop  down  and  be 

Moth  and  rust; 
Mourn  we  thy  departed  day 
And  our  memories  cling  alway 
To  thy  dust."  * 

At  last  the  long  train  was  gone,  lost  to  sight  in  a  turn 
of  the  road,  but  Loic  and  Gaidik  still  knelt  entranced, 
their  little  hearts  very  sad  indeed,  and  when  at  last  they 
rose  and  spoke  their  voices  were  low  and  full  of  pity, 
this  sorrowful  ending  to  a  day  of  pleasure  having  a  grim 
pathos  for  them  not  easily  to  be  shaken  off.  Indeed,  the 
weary,  lonely,  melancholy  figure  of  the  new  Count  stood 
out  in  painful  contrast  with  their  remembrance  of  the 
kindly,  merry  presence  of  their  old  friend,  who  was  even 
now  being  taken  in  that  flower-laden  coffin  to  the  great 
castle  where  they  had  last  seen  him  so  full  of  life  and 
health. 

*  A  free  translation,  or  rather  paraphrase,  of  some  representa- 
tive verses,  in  the  metre  of  the  Gaelic  original. 
7 


irir 
Struggle 


CHAPTER   VI 

The  grovelling  Mole  was  made  one  day 

Preceptor  to  the  Sparrow, 

Who  made  him  to  sing  Well-a-way! 

Out!     Fie!     Alas  and  Harrow! 

"What  can  you  teach,"  bold  Jack  would  cry 

"When  you  but  crawl,  and  I  can  fly? 

You'd  best  behave,  or  'twill  be  found 

I  saw  you  delving  underground! 

Pray  notice" — here  a  wink  gave  he — 

"The  butcher-bird  in  yonder  tree!"  M.  M. 

''Loic,  get  your  German  books!  We  will  first  pro- 
ceed with  the  syntax,  and  then  you  can  go  on  with  your 
;ranslation  of  Schiller's  'Bells.'" 

Loic  deliberated  for  a  moment,  with  head  held  high, 
and  then  burned  his  ships. 

"No!"  he  replied,  very  distinctly  and  resolutely. 

"What!"  cried  the  tutor,  aghast.     "Do  I  understand 

u  to  intimate  that  you  decline  to  take  your  German 
esson  ?" 

"That's  about  the  size  of  it,"  the  boy  replied,  with 
an  exasperatingly  gentle  smile,  "for  I  certainly  don't 
arant  to  do  so,  M'sieu'  Rivier!" 

The  tutor's  dull  eyes  flashed  ominously.  "You  intend, 
10  doubt,  to  take  the  management  of  your  future  studies 
nto  your  own  hands,"  he  remarked,  ironically. 

"Well,  that  depends  on  what  studies  you  mean!"  Loic 
•eplied,  quite  undisturbed.  "  I  hate  German,  for  instance ; 
t  is  a  beastly  language,  like  a  stack  of  hay  in  the  mouth. 

93 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

I  speak  it  almost  as  well  as  I  do  French.  Russian,  and 
Spanish,  because  mamma  fenced  me  in  with  nurses  of 
all  nationalities  ever  since  I  was  knee-high  to  a  toad, 
and  that's  quite  enough  for  a  poor  little  kid  not  yet 
twelve  years  old — but  learn  the  syntax  and  translate 
the  old  jingles  I  won't!" 

At  this  juncture  an  emperor- moth  fluttered  in  at  the 
open  window,  and  Loic,  flicking  at  it  with  his  handker- 
chief to  make  it  fly  back  into  the  garden,  bent  clear  out 
to  gaze  after  it,  and  began  to  sing  at  the  top  of  his  voice: 

'Chante,  Rossignol,  chante 
Toi  qui  a  le  coeur  gai. 
Le  mien  n'est  pas  de  meme 
II  est  bien  afflige!" 

Not  even  in  his  wildest  moments  had  Loic  ever  gone 
quite  as  far  as  that  upon  the  road  of  insubordination, 
and  to  say  that  the  tutor  was  furious  would  scarcely 
meet  the  situation.  "Hold  your  tongue!"  he  cried,  with 
a  violent  gesture  of  his  damp,  unwholesome  -  looking 
hands.  "What's  the  meaning  of  this  new  caprice — do 
you  imagine  that  I'm  going  to  yield  to  it?" 

Loic  ceased  to  sing,  and  burst  into  a  hearty  laugh. 
"Oh,  of  course  I'm  not  stupid  enough  to  think  you'll 
do  so  gracefully,  M'sieu'  Rivier,"  he  said,  with  a  merry 
twinkle  of  his  mischievous  gray  eyes,  sitting  down  once 
more  and  thrusting  his  hands  deep  into  his  pockets; 
"but  yield  you  will  have  to  in  the  end,  whether  you  like 
it  or  not." 

At  the  sound  of  those  defiant  words,  Rivier's  face  al- 
tered so  that  for  a  second  Loic  thought  his  eyes  or  his 
brain  were  playing  him  some  inexplicable  trick  as  he 
looked  at  him,  for  the  whole  pallid  countenance  had  in 
an  instant  become  literally  distorted  with  passion,  the 

94 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

iris  of  the  butter-milk-colored  eyes  seemed  to  have  di- 
lated till  the  bilious  white  was  all  but  invisible,  the  thin 
lips  were  drawn  back  from  the  teeth  like  those  of  some 
snarling  animal,  and  the  cheeks  and  forehead  were 
mottled  with  greenish  patches. 

"You  little  ruffian!"  he  said,  in  a  low,  concentrated 
voice.  "Do  you  think  I  am  the  sort  of  a  man  to  be 
ordered  about  by  the  like  of  you?" 

As  he  faced  his  pupil,  his  lower  jaw  working  spas- 
modically up  and  down,  as  if  trying  to  chew  his  rage 
into  small  pieces,  he  was  a  truly  villanous  object  to  con- 
template, and  each  moment  Loic  expected  him  to  spring 
upon  him;  but  Rivier  disappointed  him  in  this,  for  at 
heart  he  was  a  coward,  and  the  well-grown,  muscular 
boy  of  eleven  would  prove,  as  he  well  knew,  by  no  means 
a  despicable  adversary.  Even  in  his  present  furious  mood, 
the  man  fully  weighed  risks  and  consequences,  and  so, 
before  the  lapse  of  another  five  seconds,  he  resumed  some- 
thing of  his  usual  expression,  and  wiped  his  forehead  with 
his  handkerchief  as  he  would  have  done  after  some  great 
physical  exertion. 

In  appearance  the  tutor  was  tall  and  spare,  with  an 
elongated  head  somewhat  abnormally  prominent  at  the 
back.  He  had  a  tell-tale  mouth,  betraying  more  than 
one  weakness,  a  sensual,  domineering  nose,  and  a  chin 
that  retreated  from  a  physiognomy  of  which  it  was  no 
doubt  ashamed.  Ordinarily,  however,  his  manner  was 
that  of  a  man  reserved  but  competent,  and  by  a  smart 
piece  of  manoeuvring  he  had  obtained  the  extremely 
well-paid  post  of  tutor  to  Loic  de  Kergoat,  contriving  to 
completely  dazzle  the  Marquise  by  his  very  real  science 
and  undoubted  talents.  Moreover,  being  a  person  of 
small  and  easy  scruples,  he  successfully  posed  for  the  con- 
vinced Royalist  and  ultra-pious  Catholic  he  had  never 

95 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

been.  Indeed,  had  she  but  known  it,  he  was  a  social- 
ist of  the  most  pronounced  type,  and  was  too  envious 
and  selfish  to  bear  good  -  will  to  anything  or  anybody 
standing  above  him ;  but  his  masterly  fashion  of  casting 
dust  in  the  eyes  of  his  fair  employer  had  hitherto  been 
crowned  with  complete  success — at  least  so  he  thought — 
and  Loic's  aggressive  sortie  appeared  to  him  like  a 
veritable  bolt  from  the  blue. 

"Now  then,  sir,"  he  said  at  last,  with  a  peremptoriness 
to  which  he  had  not  habituated  his  young  charge,  "we 
will  have  none  of  your  tantrums,  please.  You  just  barely 
escaped  being  severely  punished,  let  me  tell  you." 

"I'm  not  accustomed  to  be  spoken  to  like  that,"  Loic 
replied,  hotly,  an  angry  flush  springing  to  his  face. 

"No  doubt  it  was  a  liberty  on  my  part,  Monsieur  le 
Marquis!"  the  other  responded,  scornfully,  "so  pray 
deign  to  excuse  it."  Then,  noticing  that  a  very  little 
more  would  throw  Loic  completely  off  his  balance,  and 
that  with  probably  lightning-like  consequences  to  him- 
self, he  managed  to  suppress  his  own  temper,  and  in  a 
completely  altered  tone  continued:  "What  is  the  mat- 
ter with  you,  my  boy  ?  Until  now,  although  you  are 
no  model  scholar,  yet  you  have  been  at  least  polite  and 
to  a  certain  extent  deferential." 

Instantly  the  lad's  threatening  expression  changed 
too,  a  contemptuous  smile  dawned  at  the  corners  of  his 
lips,  and  he  quite  shamelessly  winked.  "That,"  he  re- 
marked, significantly,  "is  because  I  did  not  know  you 
as  I  do  now,  M'sieu*  Rivier.  You  can't  expect  me  to 
respect  somebody  who  makes  Malghorn  his  bosom  friend, 
and  plots  and  plans  with  him  all  sorts  of  disgusting  things." 

The  tutor  jumped  to  his  feet.  "What!"  he  gasped. 
"Malghorn!  Who  told  you  that  I  made  a  friend  of  him, 
and  what  do  you  mean  by  saying  that  I  plot  and  plan  ?" 

96 


THE    TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

His  hands  still  deep  in  his  pockets,  his  head  resting 
easily  and  comfortably  on  the  back  of  his  chair,  the  hope 
of  the  Kergoats  was  looking  at  his  tutor  through  half- 
shut  lids. 

"I  heard  you  with  my  own  ears  telling  Malghorn,  the 
other  day,  that  Aristocrats  were  only  fit  to  be  fichus 
dedans,  and  that  religion  was  all  humbug.  Now  don't 
you  think  'mamma  would  be  pleased  to  know  that  you, 
whom  she  calls  a  pillar  of  Monarchy  and  the  Church,  are 
a  Red,  a  real  Communard,  and  all  the  rest  of  it?" 

"Sacre  nom  d'un  Chien,  but  where  did  you  hear  all 
this?  Can  you  at  least  tell  me  that?"  the  now  really 
terrified  tutor  exclaimed,  sawing  the  air  with  clinched 
fists,  like  one  wellnigh  demented. 

Loic  saw  now  that  he  "  held  the  rope,"  as  he  would  have 
graphically  put  it,  and  was  not  slow  to  take  advantage 
of  this  gratifying  fact. 

"Oh,  don't  swear,  M'sieu'  Rivier — that's  a  bad  exam- 
ple to  set  me.  Keep  cool  and  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it.  I 
heard  all  this  and  much  more  while  riding  home  the 
other  day  along  the  grass  path  behind  the  orchard,  where 
you  were  smoking  your  cigar  in  company  with  your 
friend  Malghorn.  Pan  tin's  hoofs  were  not  making  much 
noise  on  the  turf,  and,  what's  more,  you  were  both  shout- 
ing at  the  top  of  your  lungs,  so  that  I  heard  you  quite 
well.  '  Sacrees  crapules  d'Aristocrates,  sdle  pretraille ' — 
that's  one  of  the  things  you  were  saying.  I  laughed  till 
I  cried  at  the  time,  to  think  of  mamma's  face  if  she  only 
could  have  heard  you,  too;  but  afterwards  I  reflected 
that  what  you  are  doing  is  not  very  chic,  for  mamma 
believes  in  you  as  if  you  were  Saint  Chrysostom  himself, 
though  since  you  funked  riding  Le  Real  she  does  not 
perhaps  admire  you  quite  as  much  as  she  did,  still — " 

"Funked  riding  Le  Real!  Loic,  I  am  beginning  to 

97 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

think  that  you  are  mad,"  Rivier  exclaimed,  at  his  wits' 
end  to  give  this  exceedingly  uncomfortable  conversation 
a  turn  which  would  at  least  restore  him  the  advantage 
of  debate. 

"Well,  that's  a  good  one!  Green  as  grass  you  turned 
when  that  poor  old  goat  of  a  superannuated  steeple- 
chaser began  to  dance  out  of  mere  fun.  But  that's 
neither  here  nor  there.  If  you  want  me  to  keep  silent 
about  your  little  failings,  you  must  be  more  amiable  to 
me  than  you  have  been  of  late,  and  especially  not  fly  into 
rages  as  you  did  just  now,  because  I  don't  like  it  a  bit." 

"So  you  have  not  as  yet  spoken  about  what  you  pre- 
tend to  have  heard?"  the  bewildered  and  sorely  fright- 
ened man  stupidly  asked. 

"What  do  you  take  me  for,  M'sieu'  Rivier — a  spy? 
I'm  pretty  bad,  perhaps,  but  I'm  not  that,  and  when  I 
speak  I'll  do  so  right  before  you — never  fear!  You  seem 
to  think  that  everybody  is  a  sneak!"  Loic  promptly  re- 
torted, with  extreme  disdain. 

Here  the  tutor  committed  the  irreparable  error  of 
blustering.  "Perhaps,"  he  sneered,  "you  would  like  me 
to  call  Madame  la  Marquise  at  once,  so  that  you  may 
put  your  delicate  threat  into  execution!  All  you'll  get 
for  your  pains  will  be  a  sound  thrashing,  I  can  promise 
you  that,  you  young  game-cock!" 

Loic  looked  at  his  imprudent  victim  for  a  moment 
with  pupils  diminishing  to  a  pin-point,  then  he  gave  a 
little,  low  whistle.  "  Really!"  he  murmured.  "  Well,  what 
do  you  say  to  our  trying  the  experiment?  We  can  give 
her  all  the  curdling  details  of  this  morning's  work,  and 
if  she  doesn't  appreciate  the  story  I'll  fetch  Uncle  Rend, 
who  arrived  an  hour  ago,  and  who'll  make  a  splendid 
addition  to  the  audience.  He  may  take  you  down  a  peg 
or  two,  but — 

98 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

Rivier  rose  once  more  from  his  chair  in  great  agitation. 

"What  do  you  mean?  Do  you  know  what  your 
words  imply?" 

"Certainly  I  do,"  Loic  said,  quietly.  "Uncle  Rene 
won't  be  taken  in  by  you  as  Mamma  used  to  be;  besides, 
he  has  always  been  just  to  me  and  to  Gaidik." 

"The  Duchess  d'Aspremont ?" 

"Yes,  my  sister  Gaidik.  She'd  be  the  one  to  make 
you  sing  low,  M'sieu'  Rivier — she's  not  such  a  fool  as  I 
am!" 

"From  all  I've  heard  of  her — "  the  tutor  began,  with 
a  sneer;  but,  without  giving  him  time  to  proceed  any 
further,  Loic  came  at  him  as  if  shot  out  of  a  catapult, 
his  eyes  dark  with  fury,  his  face  set  like  flint,  his  fists 
doubled. 

"Don't  you  dare  to  speak  of  Gaidik  in  that  tone,  or 
I'll  knock  all  your  teeth  down  your  ugly  throat!"  he 
cried,  choking  with  rage.  "I  heard  you  and  that  viper 
Malghorn  say  enough  about  us  all  the  other  day  to  judge 
what  you're  capable  of.  Let  Gaidik  alone,  do  you  hear  ?" 

"What — what — "  stammered  Rivier,  in  a  high,  tremu- 
lous voice — he  was  livid  with  fright.  "I'll 'say  anything 
I  like  about  her  or" — he  finished  with  a  splutter,  for 
Loic  had  struck  him  full  on  the  mouth  with  a  force  that 
nearly  swept  him  off  his  feet.  As  it  was,  after  executing 
some  remarkable  gesticulations  and  contortions  in  the 
effort  to  preserve  his  balance,  over  he  went  with  a  crash, 
and  on  top  of  him  a  heavy  table  loaded  with  books, 
stationery,  and  capacious,  old-fashioned  inkstands  newly 
filled  that  day  with  writing-fluids  of  several  brilliant 
colors. 

A  second  later  the  door  opened  and  Madame  de  Ker- 
goat,  attracted  by  these  sounds  of  battle,  entered  quick- 
ly. Her  great,  back  eyes  stared  wide  with  astonish- 

99 


THE    TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

ment  as  they  fell  upon  the  scene ;  but  a  sense  of  the  ri- 
diculous was  one  of  her  strong  points,  and  as  she  caught 
sight  of  the  tutor  hastily  extricating  himself  from  the 
ruins,  a  scarecrow  figure,  dripping  with  ink,  with  hair  on 
end,  eyes  bulging  with  fright,  and  one  aimless  hand  smear- 
ing his  variegated  countenance  into  strange  shades  and 
combinations,  she  barely  suppressed  a  burst  of  almost  un- 
controllable laughter. 

"My  dearest  dear!"  she  at  last  managed  to  exclaim. 
"What  on  earth  is  the  matter?" 

Her  dearest  dear,  still  standing  with  squared  shoul- 
ders, braced  for  immediate  action,  did  not  reply,  and 
she  repeated:  "What  is  it,  Loic?  Have — have  you  been 
fighting?" 

A  fresh  spasm  suddenly  seized  her,  her  hands  began 
to  tremble  and  the  corners  of  her  mouth  to  quiver. 
"Tell — tell — me,"  she  began,  in  unsteady  tones,  but  there 
she  stopped,  for  at  this  juncture  the  very  .last  person 
Monsieur  Rivier  would  have  desired  to  see,  appeared 
within  the  open  door. 

The  new-comer  was  an  extremely  tall  and  strikingly 
handsome  man,  whose  relationship  to  Loic  and  Gaidik 
was  proclaimed  at  one  glance.  There  were  the  same 
finely  chiselled  features,  the  same  deep-set,  dark-gray, 
black-lashed  eyes  and  dusky,  copper-hued  hair,  and  the 
same  alert,  thorough-bred  expression  of  face  and  attitude. 

Past  experiences  had  taught  Comte  Rene — as  he  was 
familiarly  called — the  wisdom  of  not  meddling  with  his 
erratic  sister-in-law's  management  of  her  children,  ex- 
cepting on  very  grave  occasions;  but  as  this  one  seemed 
certainly  to  enter  that  category,  he  stepped  forward  with 
a  composure  of  countenance  that  was  either  a  tribute  to 
the  perfection  of  his  self-control  or  a  libel  on  his  sense  of 
humor. 

100 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

"What  has  happened,  Genevieve?" 

"I  do  not  k-kn-o-ow,"  quavered  Madame  de  Kergoat, 
making  another  heroic  effort  to  conceal  her  irresistible 
desire  to  laugh.  "I  heard  a  most  extraordinary  tumult, 
and  ran  here  to  find  Loic  and  Monsieur  Rivier  aux 
prises,  I  really  believe." 

The  Count  evidently  required  no  further  enlightenment, 
for  now,  as  if  completely  comprehending  the  situation,  he 
said,  simply: 

"This  being  so,  you  had  best  leave  it  all  to  me.  Go 
to  your  room,  Loic,  and  wait  there  till  I  come,"  he  added, 
turning  to  the  still  quivering  boy.  Then,  opening  the 
door  for  his  sister-in-law  to  pass  out,  he  added,  in  a 
lower  tone,  "I  will  wait  upon  you,  Genevieve,  as  soon 
as  I  have  settled  this  very  unpleasant  but  by  no  means 
surprising  affair." 

Madame  de  Kergoat,  strange  to  relate,  offered  no  ob- 
jections, and,  followed  by  the  frowning  Loic,  left  the 
room  in  the  meekest  and  most  obedient  fashion.  Per- 
chance the  boy  had  been  right  in  declaring  that  her 
admiration  for  Rivier's  manifold  faculties  and  talents 
was  on  the  wane,  and  that,  desirous  to  be  rid  of  him, 
she  was  at  heart  delighted  for  once  to  allow  her  formi- 
dable brother-in-law  the  upperhand.  Be  this  as  it  may, 
she,  to  his  intense  relief,  went  without  a  murmur,  and, 
turning  to  the  quaking  tutor,  Count  Rdn£  said,  dryly, 
"A  nous  deux  maintenant,  Monsieur !" 

Rivier  was  gazing  fixedly  out  of  the  window.  He  did 
not,  however,  see  the  exquisite  vista  of  smooth  lawns, 
gorgeous  flower-carpets,  and  changing  greens  pierced  by 
broken  shafts  of  sunlight  that  was  framed  in  the  broad, 
low-silled  niche.  It  merely  served  as  an  occupation  for 
the  troubled  eyes  he  could  not  summon  courage  to  turn 
towards  Monsieur  de  Kergoat. 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

"Monsieur  Rivier,  the  man  who  over-estimates  the  fool- 
ishness of  others  is  himself  the  biggest  fool  concerned," 
the  Count's  calm  voice  was  quietly  saying.  "I  have 
watched  you  very  keenly,  whenever  I  chanced  to  be  at 
Kergoat,  since  your  arrival  here,  and  I  cannot  say  that 
I  discovered  any  good  in  you ;  but  let  that  pass.  It  was 
not,  strictly  speaking,  my  business  to  interfere,  for  al- 
though I  am  Loic's  guardian,  my  sister-in-law  having 
found  no  fault  with  you,  I  contented  myself  with  remain- 
ing on  the  alert.  Lately,  however,  I  have  come  to  the 
regrettable  certainty  that  you  are  a  scoundrel  —  a  fact 
to  be  deplored,  not  only  for  you,  but  also  for  Loic — and, 
to  be  plain,  I  arrived  here  this  morning  for  the  sole  pur- 
pose of  giving  your  more  than  questionable  behavior  the 
recognition  it  deserves." 

"I — I — do  not  understand  what  you  mean,  Monsieur 
le  Comte,"  stammered  Rivier. 

"You  understand  me  very  well  indeed,  on  the  con- 
trary, for  you  cannot  doubt  that  I  would  not  speak  as 
I  do  had  I  not  excellent  proofs  in  hand.  To  begin  with, 
you  are  affiliated  to  the  Comite  des  Socialistes,  to  whom 
you  are  supposed  to  render  valuable  information  con- 
cerning 'the  enemies  of  the  government,''  as  you  tragically 
denominate  us  Nobles.  That  already  would  be  a  fair 
example  of  your  delicacy  and  honor — although,  of  course, 
your  conception  of  such  matters  is  very  different  from 
ours;  but  there  is  worse  even  than  that  to  be  laid  at 
your  door.  Your  ideas  of  morality  are  peculiar  and  not 
acceptable  in  a  man  whose  metier  it  is  to  bring  up  and 
train  children.  But  enough.  It  suffices  to  call  this  a 
disgusting  question.  I  am  going  to  write  you  a  check 
for  three  months'  additional  salary,  and  you  will  be  so 
good  as  to  leave  Kergoat  immediately." 

Rivier 's  lips  moved,  but  no  sound  came  from  them, 

102 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

and  he  felt  again  for  his  handkerchief  to  wipe  his  clammy, 
ink-stained  brow.  Indeed,  he  was  so  completely  crushed, 
so  irretrievably  convicted,  that  he  could  not  even  find  a 
word  to  say  in  his  own  defence,  but  sank  helplessly  on 
the  broad  window-sill,  while  Monsieur  de  Kergoat,  seat- 
ing himself  at  a  desk  near  by,  took  his  check-book  from 
his  pocket  and  began  to  write. 

In  so  doing  he  turned  his  back  to  the  tutor,  and  then 
for  the  first  time  Rivier  ventured  to  look  in  his  direction. 
It  was  not  a  pleasant  gaze — had  Count  Rene  but  known 
it,  the  blight  of  more  than  one  life  looked  out  from  those 
eyes,  and  the  ordinarily  obsequious  face  was  drawn  in 
evil  lines  of  hate  and  cunning.  This  was,  after  his  fashion, 
a  subtle  man,  who  would  not  hesitate  at  any  time  to 
deal  a  blow  in  the  dark,  and  for  the  present  it  was  fort- 
unate for  Count  Rene"  that  the  eyes  bent  upon  his  un- 
conscious back  were  not  loaded  pistols.  At  last,  as  if 
weary  of  this  profitless  scrutiny,  the  tutor  turned  once 
more  to  the  sun-bathed  view  without. 

It  was  delicious  October  weather  ;  blackbirds  and 
thrushes  were  dropping  their  liquid  notes  like  bubbles 
of  exquisite  melody  in  every  tree  of  the  park ;  the  air  was 
warm  and  suave,  and  laden  with  the  fragrance  of  ripen- 
ing fruit.  Immediately  before  the  windows  extended  a 
walled  garden  shaded  by  huge  cedars  of  Lebanon,  where 
a  quaint,  old-day  peacefulness  reigned  supreme  amid  a 
wonderful  assortment  of  leafy  evergreens,  climbing  ivy, 
sturdy  tufts  of  lavender,  and  a  veritable  orgy  of  roses  of 
all  kinds  and  colors — colors  ranging  from  the  warm  tint 
of  the  topaz  to  that  of  the  finest  ruby,  and  following  all 
the  gradations  of  cream,  pearl,  and  the  delicate  flush  of 
a  sleeping  baby's  cheek.  Truly  the  "queen  of  flowers" 
thrived  well  in  this  sunny,  sheltered  nook,  offering  like 
a  Royal  gift  its  straight  stems  crowned  with  perfume, 

103 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

advancing  its  flexible  branches  to  the  very  crest  of  the 
ancient  walls,  and  climbing  into  the  drooping  arms  of 
several  magnificent  Weymouth  pines,  where  the  rich 
clusters  of  their  satiny  buds  charmingly  nestled,  every 
species,  according  to  its  kind,  doing  its  best  to  transform 
Le  Jar  din  dn  Roi  —  as  this  delicious  spot  was  called 
—  into  a  miniature  vale  of  Kashmir.  All  this  superb 
brilliancy  and  beauty  seemed  to  mock  the  discomfited 
schemer,  not  only  by  contrast  with  his  own  dark  thoughts, 
but  by  symbolizing  the  loss  his  dismissal  from  Kergoat 
was  to  him.  No,  never  could  he  hope  to  find  so  sunny, 
so  luxurious  a  berth  again,  and  it  was  with  enraged  dis- 
may that  he  contemplated  the  future.  His  hopes  had 
vanished  like  melting  snow,  and  nothing  but  a  heap  of 
dirt  was  left  behind. 

Monsieur  de  Kergoat's  cold,  incisive  voice  recalled  him 
with  a  start  to  the  shame  of  the  immediate  present. 

"You  will  please  make  your  preparations  at  once," 
he  said,  rising  and  approaching  Rivier.  "In  an  hour  a 
trap  will  be  in  readiness  to  take  you  to  the  Plouhar'zalec 
diligence.  You  will  also  hold  no  communication  what- 
soever with  any  member  of  this  household  save  the  valet 
assigned  to  you  since  the  beginning  of  your  stay." 

The  tutor  had  risen,  and,  although  Count  Rene  plainly 
saw  the  traces  of  ill -repressed  fury  and  hunted  fear  in  his 
face,  he  paid  not  the  slightest  attention  to  these  danger- 
signals  flown  by  one  whom  he — the  strong  and  honorable 
— considered  a  weak,  paltry,  and  insignificant  plotter,  not 
worthy  of  a  second  thought.  Ungraciously  and  mutely 
Rivier  accepted  the  generous  and  totally  undeserved  gra- 
tuity handed  to  him,  and  stood  motionless  as  a  statue 
until  the  Grand  Seigneur,  with  a  slight  inclination  of  the 
head,  had  left  him  to  the  solitude  of  the  beautiful  room, 
beside  the  overturned  table  and  the  variegated  ink  pud- 

104 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

dies,  now  extended  in  slowly  creeping  rivulets  and  oozing 
towards  the  wellnigh  priceless  tapis  de  la  Savonerie  cover- 
ing the  centre  of  the  floor. 

A  little  later  Count  Rend,  presenting  himself  at  the 
door  of  the  small  drawing-room  attached  to  his  sister-in- 
law's  apartments,  found  her  in  a  delicious  tea-gown  of 
old  Venetian  point  and  silvery  tissues,  standing  critical- 
eyed  between  two  of  the  tall  windows,  turning  her  head 
from  side  to  side,  craning  her  neck  a  little,  examining — 
if  one  must  confess  it — the  effect  in  her  dark  hair  of  a 
gorgeous  band  of  diamonds  and  sapphires  which,  after 
being  reset  and  modernized,  had  just  arrived  from  Paris. 

Rene  bowed  gravely,  taking  absolutely  no  notice  of 
his  lovely  relative's  absorbed  studies  of  her  beauty  in 
the  broad  Louis  XIV.  mirror  before  which  she  continued 
to  stand,  and  came  to  the  point  with  his  customary 
directness  of  speech. 

"I  have,"  he  said,  "just  dismissed  Rivier,  who,  as  I 
have  already  told  you  fifty  times,  Genevieve,  is  not  the 
man  to  intrust  with  Loic's  education." 

"Oh,  don't  call  me  'Genevieve'!"  she  interrupted  him, 
with  a  droll  little  grimace.  "It  always  makes  me  think 
of  that  celebrated  lady  of  Brabant,  so  deficient  in  cloth- 
ing and  so  rich  in  hair,  who  wandered  eternally  with  her 
goat  or  her  stag,  or  whatever  it  was,  in  lonesome  forests. 
Can't  you  say  '  Vivette'f  It's  so  much  prettier  and  more 
brotherly.  I  wish  you  were  not  always  so  horribly 
grave!" 

"The  situation,"  he  replied,  with  a  grim  little  smile, 
"is  extremely  grave,  it  is  no  use  disguising  that  fact." 

Madame  de  Kergoat  looked  up  at  him  as  he  towered  be- 
side her,  and  the  slanting  sun -rays  showed  an  expression 
of  genuine  astonishment  in  her  magnificent  eyes. 

"I  must  ask  you  to  believe  that  I  exaggerate  nothing. 
8  105 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

The  situation  is  very  grave,  though  you  are  disinclined 
to  believe  it,  just  as  a  sailor  refuses  to  believe  that  his 
own  particular  ship  is  unseaworthy." 

Genevieve  laughed.  "Is  all  this  solemnity  the  result 
of  Rivier's  fight  with  Loic?"  And  again  she  laughed 
heartily.  "Oh!  I  wish  you  could  have  seen  him  rise  up 
from  the  ddbris  with  ink  flowing  like  Aaron's  oil  to  the 
very  edge  of  his  garments,  it  was  so  funny  I  was  glad 
to  find  a  pretext  for  flight,  else  I  would  have  exploded 
right  in  his  face." 

Rene"  glanced  sharply  down  at  her,  asking  himself 
whether  she  was  really  as  unconscious  as  she  appeared 
to  be,  or  whether  she  was  not,  after  all,  acting  a  part — a 
usual  trick  of  hers  when  desirous  of  avoiding  censure. 
But  no,  she  was  really  immensely  amused,  of  that  there 
could  be  no  doubt. 

"I  saw  quite  enough  as  it  was,"  he  returned,  calmly, 
"but  the  man  did  not  seem  funny  to  me.  He  is  an  un- 
utterable scoundrel,  a  very  ugly  customer  indeed,  and  it 
is  a  thousand  pities  that  he  should  ever  have  set  his  foot 
in  this  house." 

"Now,  really,  Re'ne'!  I  know  that  you  mean  well  in 
telling  me  all  this,  but  don't  you  think  that  unwittingly, 
perchance,  you  are  looking  a  trifle  too  darkly  at  the 
whole  matter.  Rivier  may  not  be  what  I  first  believed 
him  to  be,  but  from  that  to  his  being  a  dangerous  criminal 
is  a  far  cry." 

"I  beg  your  pardon!  I  am  not  inclined  to  be  in  the 
least  melodramatic,  and  when  I  tell  you  that  this  erst- 
while paragon  of  yours  is  a  scoundrel  of  the  most  decided 
description,  I  thoroughly  mean  it.  I  cannot  imagine 
what  ever  possessed  you  to  engage  his  services." 

Madame  de  Kergoat  looked  her  brother-in-law  up  and 
down  from  the  corners  of  her  eyes. 

1 06 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

"He  plays  the  piano  like  Liszt,  the  violin  like  Sarasate, 
and  is  besides  a  veritable  well  of  science.  What  more 
would  you  have  in  a  tutor?"  she  replied,  lightly.  "I 
searched  everywhere,  I  assure  you,  and  even  in  the  ut- 
termost corners  of  the  earth  I  could  not  have  found  a 
likelier  pedagogue." 

Re'ne'  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  You  might  easily  have 
found  a  better  man  in  one  of  them,  or  even  nearer. 
My  dear  Genevieve,  it  is  difficult  for  men  to  do  always 
the  right  thing.  It  is  a  thousand  times  more  difficult 
for  women.  Why  will  you  not  consent  to  be  guided  by 
me  where  your  children  are  concerned  ?  I  love  them  dear- 
ly; as  you  know,  and  long  ago  I  offered  you  my  help 
because  I  think  that  no  woman  can  win  through  your 
difficulties  unaided.  You  refused,  being  quite  sure  of 
your  own  ability  to  do  so,  but  I  still  venture  to  believe 
that  my  assistance  is  essential." 

Genevieve  de  Kergoat  raised  her  head  a  little.  She 
was  within  an  ace  of  handing  over  to  Rene  the  rod  of 
power,  which  she  knew  in  her  innermost  heart  that  she 
often  unwisely  wielded,  but  pride  and  a  deep  dislike  of 
her  brother-in-law's  authoritative  methods  intervened, 
and  in  a  voice  too  light,  too  hopelessly  shallow  for  the 
depth  of  the  moment,  she  answered:  "And  I  think 
that  you  are  quite  mistaken,  my  dear  Re'ne' .  I  may  have 
erred  as  far  as  my  choice  of  a  tutor  is  concerned,  but  I 
find  no  difficulty  whatsoever  in  managing  Loic,  who,  if 
he  is  sometimes  a  little  violent  and  skittish,  yet  obeys 
me  far  better  than  you  imagine,  and  as  to  Marc'haid, 
thank  goodness  her  husband  is  responsible  for  her  pranks 
now,  not  I." 

"How  can  you  talk  like  that!"  Monsieur  de  Kergoat 
exclaimed,  with  serious  displeasure.  "You  cannot  man- 
age Loic  at  all,  to  begin  with,  excepting  now  and  then 

107 


THE    TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

with  a  whip,  when  he  tries  your  patience  too  far.  Your 
treatment  of  him  is  a  regular  Turkish  bath:  alternate 
douches  of  hot  and  cold.  You  are,  if  you  will  allow  me 
to  say  so  quite  frankly,  on  the  high-road  to  spoil  one  of 
the  finest  natures  God  ever  created.  As  for  Gaidik,  you 
married  her  at  fifteen  to  get  rid  of  her,  which  was  a  sin, 
for  she  is  the  dearest  as  well  as  the  prettiest  little  creature 
that  ever  looked  out  upon  a  wicked  world  from  a  pair 
of  gloriously  honest  eyes." 

"  Ne  touchons  pas  a  la  Reine  /"  Genevieve  retorted, 
provokingly.  "Gaidik  is,  of  course,  perfection  in  your 
eyes,  since  she  is  so  much  like  you." 

"Like  me?  Nonsense!  She  is  like  her  father,  who 
was  the  best  and  the  handsomest  man  I  ever  knew,  be- 
sides being  the  most  honest  and  fearless.  Yes,  she  is 
like  him,  and  like  no  one  else,  God  be  praised  for  that!" 

"A  thousand  thanks — that's  polite  and  gracious,"  she 
said,  with  mocking  plain tiveness,  "but" — with  a  change 
of  tone — "you  never  did  me  justice,  Re'ne',  and  truly  I 
do  not  know  why  you  hate  me  so  bitterly  ?" 

Re'ne'  looked  down  at  her  with  his  cold,  grave  smile. 
The  words  had  been  admirably  pronounced,  the  thought- 
ful droop  of  the  lovely  head,  the  dainty  display  of  a 
tiny,  satin-shod  foot  were  marvellously  well  considered. 

"I  wonder  why  you  go  to  the  trouble  of  all  this  clever 
little  mise-en-scene  for  me,"  he  said,  quietly. 

Madame  de  Kergoat  always  became  instantly  furious 
with  any  one  who  refused  to  fall  headlong  into  one  of 
her  little  traps,  and  she  gave  her  too  clear-sighted  brother- 
in-law  a  very  sour  and  unadmiring  look. 

"Thank  you  also,"  she  .said,  scornfully,  "for  your  deli- 
cate sarcasms.  There  are  few  men  in  this  world  who 
can't  be  tamed,  but  you  are  one  of  them!" 

"I  trust,  at  any  rate,"  he  replied,  quite  unconcernedly, 

108 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

"that  what  I  just  said  has  not  been  lost  upon  you,  and 
that  you  will  recognize  the  urgent  necessity  of  speedily 
altering  your  plan  of  action  with  regard  to  Loic." 

With  an  impatient  little  toss  of  the  head,  she  pointed 
to  a  chair.  "Hadn't  you  better  sit  down  and  explain 
more  clearly  what  it  is  you  want  me  to  do?"  she  said, 
crossly. 

He  did  not  sit  down,  but  came  nearer  and  stood  by 
the  sofa,  where  she  had  nestled  among  a  mountain  of 
cushions,  and  looked  steadily  at  her  for  a  few  seconds. 

"Well!"  she  said,  in  the  same  exasperating  tone,  arch- 
ing her  eyebrows  inquiringly. 

"Oh,  come!"  he  remonstrated.  "Don't  pretend  to 
misunderstand  me.  You  know  that  Loic  is  getting  to 
be  too  much  for  you,  and  that  it  is  high  time  to  put 
him  in  hands  capable  of  coping  with  his  amazing  force  of 
resistance,  his  truly  Breton  stubbornness,  and  his  ex- 
treme distaste  for  any  sort  of  restraint.  Now,  what  are 
you  going  to  do  about  it?" 

Their  interviews  were  never  either  gay  or  cordial,  and 
she  suddenly  ceased  to  assume  even  the  shadow  of  an 
amiability  which  she  was  far  from  feeling,  for  she  was 
getting  angry  in  good  earnest.  "  What  ?  Oh,  I  don't 
know  at  all!"  she  answered,  tapping  her  foot  on  the 
carpet.  "Of  course  what  I  will  do  will  be  for  Loic's 
best  interests;  but  I  have  not  had  time  to  think  about 
it  yet,  nor  do  I  care  to  bother  about  such  questions  just 
now." 

"You  had  better  think  soon,  nevertheless,  since  I  have 
sent  Rivier  away." 

"Very  officious  of  you!"  she  said,  perversely.  "I  had 
a  right  to  be  first  consulted." 

"Not  the  smallest  right  in  such  a  case.  The  man,  as 
I  have  had  the  honor  of  telling  you,  is  an  abject  individual. 

109 


THE    TRIDENT   AND    TH  E.NET 

I  found  out  that  he — but  such  things  are  no  concern  of 
a  woman.  Pray,  however,  give  your  full  attention  to 
what  does  concern  you.  What  will  you  do  if  you  per- 
sist in  letting  Loic  gradually  take  the  upperhand  and  act 
just  as  he  pleases?" 

She  deigned  no  reply,  for  she  had  none  ready.  More- 
over, her  temper  was  rising  with  stormy  swiftness,  her 
very  lips  were  losing  their  rose-leaf  tint,  and  her  eyes 
flashed  like  the  brown  diamonds  they  resembled. 

"Surely  you  must  see,"  her  brother-in-law  continued, 
with  exemplary  patience,  "that  in  the  position  in  which 
I  stand  towards  your  children  I  am  in  a  manner  re- 
sponsible for  their  future." 

"How  exactly  like  you  to  infer  that  I  am  not  capable 
of  taking  care  of  that  myself!"  she  cried.  "Nobody  else 
would  make  such  a  fuss  over  the  matter.  Loic's  future 
is  pretty  well  provided  for,  is  it  not?" 

"Loic  will  be  very  rich,  if  that  is  what  you  mean;  but 
a  boy  brought  up  like  him  may  very  well  run  through 
millions  when  once  he  feels  the  reins  completely  loose  on 
his  neck,  and  since  you  are  still  young,  a  great  number  of 
years  may  elapse  before  he  comes  into  your  money ;  more- 
over, that  will  have  to  be  shared  between  Gaidik  and 
himself  when  the  time  comes." 

"Alas,  yes!  But  supposing  he,  as  you  so  cheerfully 
prophesy,  were  to  run  through  the  money  left  him  by 
his  father,  supposing  even  that  he  ran  through  all  I  will 
have  to  leave  him — for  be  easy,  I  shall  give  him  all  that 
the  law  does  not  oblige  me  to  leave  to  our  charming  Duch- 
ess— he  still  would  have  your  fortune  to  look  forward  to." 

"By  Heaven,  that's  cool!" 

Re'ne',  as  he  muttered  these  involuntary  words,  stared 
down  at  her  too  astonished  to  disguise  his  rising  disgust, 
and  continued,  icily: 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

"That  is  where  you  make  yet  another  mistake.  If 
Loic  turns  out  badly,  I  would  sooner  leave  my  money  to 
— to  the  President  of  the  French  Republic  than  to  him. 
So  don't  count  on  that.  Moreover,  if  when  he  comes  of 
age  he  marries  contrary  to  your  wishes,  or  commits 
some  irreparable  folly,  won't  you,  yourself,  be  only  too 
ready  to  cut  down  his  supplies?" 

Madame  de  Kergoat  indulged  in  a  gesture  which  sent 
an  exquisite  crystal  bowl  full  of  violets  rolling  upon  the 
floor. 

"Marry  without  my  consent?  I'd  just  like  to  see  him 
try!"  she  exclaimed,  furiously.  "  Marry  against  my  will  ? 
Well,  that's  like  you  to  think  such  a  thing  possible!" 

"There  are  some  forces  stronger  than  yourself,  and 
one  of  them  will  be  Loic's  stubbornness  if  it  ever  comes 
to  an  open  disagreement  between  you,"  Re'ne'  replied, 
stooping  to  repair  the  damage  done  to  the  pretty  clusters 
of  violets  which  now  lay  scattered  far  and  wide  over  the 
carpet. 

"You  will  not  have  an  inch  of  ground  to  stand  on," 
he  continued,  "when  Loic  becomes  altogether  his  own 
master,  and  being  given  his  character,  you  will  be  run- 
ning your  head  against  a  stone  wall  the  first  time  you 
attempt  seriously  to  oppose  him." 

"So  you  say!" 

"It  is  not  what  I  say,  but  what  everybody  who  knows 
you  both  would  say.  You  are  accustomed  to  do  what- 
ever you  like,  but  you  will  find  out  your  mistake  only 
too  soon." 

"Oh,  do  stop  arranging  those  idiotic  flowers!"  she 
cried,  jumping  up  and  crushing  the  rest  of  them  ruth- 
lessly beneath  her  little  feet,  as  she  swept  up  and  down 
the  room  in  her  exasperation.  "Why  should  Loic  com- 
mit follies — why,  why,  why?  Can  you  tell  me  that?" 


THE   TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

"Assuredly  I  can.  I  have  already  done  so,  although 
you  paid  no  attention  to  my  words.  Loic  is  bound  to 
commit  follies  because  you  are  carefully  and  obstinately 
preparing  the  ground  out  of  which  follies  sprout.  Now, 
whether  you  are  angry  or  not,  I  for  one  do  not  intend  to 
quarrel  any  longer  on  this  wearisome  subject — indeed, 
if  you  say  so,  I  will  never  mention  it  again,  for  whatever 
may  be  my  duties  towards  the  boy,  they  do  not  include 
the  utter  destruction  of  my  own  peace  of  mind  in  vainly 
trying  to  control  your  treatment  of  him." 

She  bit  her  lips.  "  I  don't  like  your  tone  at  all,  Rene," 
she  said,  suddenly,  in  her  usual  voice,  or  one  only  slightly 
more  impertinent  than  usual,  perhaps,  but  so  surprising- 
ly cool  and  collected  that  he  looked  at  her  in  utter  sur- 
prise. All  the  anger  of  a  few  minutes  ago  had  vanished, 
and  her  present  accents  were  the  faithful  index  of  her 
delicately  sneering  face.  At  this  Rene  saw  better  than 
ever  before  the  utter  futility  of  trying  to  interfere  between 
her  and  Loic.  The  thing  was  already  beyond  his  reach, 
and  he  turned  away,  concealing  his  terrible  misgivings 
beneath  a  smile  almost  as  ironical  as  her  own. 

"I  am  sorry  if  my  tone  displeases  you,  but  you  should 
occasionally  remember  that  I  am  Loic's  guardian,  be- 
sides being  one  of  your  trustees." 

"Which  of  course  gives  you  the  right  to  annoy  me  in 
any  way  you  please,  a  right  you  use  in  full,  one  must 
confess." 

He  looked  at  her  in  silence. 

"It  has  been  the  same  thing  ever  since  your  poor 
brother's  death.  You  talk  high-flown  stuff  about  your 
duties,  and  you  care  nothing  at  all  about  the  pain  and 
sorrow  you  cause  me." 

Rdne*  was  now  really  feeling  the  despair  a  brave  and 
generous  man  feels  before  a  completely  selfish  and  frivo- 


THE    TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

lous  woman.  What  could  he  do?  To  awaken  any  con- 
science or  real  good  sense  in  her  was  hopeless,  for  there  is 
nothing  to  equal  the  impotence  of  a  man  who  attempts 
to  cope  with  the  elusiveness  of  feminine  inconscience. 
Suddenly  he  moved  a  step  nearer  and  gazed  down  at  her 
with  a  look  which  made  her,  for  a  fleeting  instant,  lower 
her  bold  and  unfaltering  eyes. 

"You  refuse  to  accept  either  my  advice  or  assistance?" 
he  asked,  sternly,  hoping  still  against  hope. 

"I  do  not  admit  that  I  am  in  need  of  either,"  she 
drawled,  lazily,  like  one  weary  of  debate  upon  some 
small  matter  not  worthy  of  discussion.  "There  is  no 
one  living  now  whom  I  would  allow  to  dictate  to  me!" 
Then  with  triumphant  finality  she  concluded:  "You 
are  Loic's  guardian,  but  you  are  not  mine,  and  I  entirely 
refuse  to  obey  your  every  whim  or  to  subject  myself  to 
your  interrogations  and  tyrannies.  I  shall  do  as  I  please 
with  regard  to  Loic's  education,  and  it  seems  to  me  that 
until  I  attempt  to  dissipate  his  patrimony,  the  rest  does 
not  concern  you." 

He  grew  quite  white,  and  squaring  his  broad  shoulders 
with  the  quiet  determination  already  so  characteristic  of 
Loic,  turned  towards  the  door. 

"I  trust  you  will  never  have  cause  to  regret  this,"  he 
said,  in  a  slightly  trembling  voice,  and  passed  out  of  the 
room  without  another  look  or  word. 


CHAPTER   VII 

Red  dawn!  red  dawn!  and  the  clouds  fast  fly, 
Cold  white  the  foam-crests,  gray  the  light, 
And  a  sail,  a  sail,  that  glideth  by 
To  where  the  east  grows  bright  1 
The  tall  cliff  answereth  rosily 
The  young  day,  born  of  the  sky  and  sea, 
And  the  shadow  drops  from  her  crown  of  turf 
To  her  stony  knees  in  the  spouting  surf. 
Oh,  sing  the  joy  that  the  morrow  brings! 
The  wondrous  freight  'neath  those  spreading  wings! 
And  shout  with  the  great  gale  newly  drawn 
From  the  under-world, 
Red  dawn! 

The  Voyage,  I.— M.  M. 

Two  years  later,  on  a  hazy  October  day,  Loic  and  his 
ever  lovely  mamma  were  taking  their  second  dejeuner 
in  the  breakfast-room  at  Kergoat  —  an  oval  apartment 
lined  with  Arras  tapestries  and  overlooking  a  beautiful 
corner  of  the  gardens. 

Loic,  sun-tanned,  deliciously  refreshed  by  his  morning 
dip  in  the  sea,  and  shedding  a  pleasant  aroma  of  salt- 
water and  violet  -  scented  linen,  regarded  his  mother 
across  the  breakfast-table,  set  with  fairest  damask,  palest 
rose  old  Saxe,  and  low  Louis  XIV.  jardinieres  filled 
with  pink  heather,  alternating  with  broad  crystal  shells 
holding  superb  grapes,  figs,  and  peaches. 

Through  the  wide-open  French  windows  a  flowering 
wilderness  of  delight  was  visible.  Running  on  each  side 
of  a  broad  grass  allee,  herbaceous  borders  displayed  tall 

114 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

hollyhocks  and  Imperial  blue  lilies,  while  shoulder-high 
to  them  were  banks  of  multicolored  dahlias,  a  thin  line 
of  scarlet  salvias  nodding  their  dazzling  little  tassels  in 
the  light  breeze,  and  a  thick  fringe  of  shaggy  poppies, 
delicate  in  texture  as  the  most  exquisite  of  Chinese  silk- 
crepe,  and  as  varied  in  hues  as  the  rainbow  itself.  Below 
these  again  was  a  thick  border  of  reseda,  heliotrope,  and 
lobelias,  the  whole  fragrant,  magnificent  mass  being 
backed  by  tall  pomegranate,  fuchsia,  rose -laurel,  and 
myrtle  bushes  still  simply  covered  with  blossoms.  This 
portion  of  the  gardens  lay  in  a  natural  dip  of  the  grounds, 
sheltered  by  lofty  hedges  of  box  and  by  patriarchal  oaks, 
lustrous  arbousiers — bearing  great  round  berries  red  as 
blood  and  rough  to  the  touch  like  shagreen  leather — and 
graceful  Italian  poplars,  which  screened  the  parterres 
from  the  bitter  saltness  of  the  frequent  sea-gales. 

Madame  de  Kergoat  glanced  at  the  sumptuous  land- 
scape, the  velvety  lawns,  the  high,  bending  trees  with 
the  silvery  light  of  that  hazy  autumn  morning  caught 
in  the  net -work  of  their  rustling  leaves  like  shreds  of 
iridescent  gauze,  glanced  at  the  orgy  of  perfumed  color 
bordering  the  wide  allee  and  then  at  Loic,  a  fine  ad- 
mixture of  pride  with  something  like  challenge  in  her 
smile.  Indeed,  the  boy  looked  magnificently  vivid,  and 
gave  one  a  sense  of  extreme  vitality,  of  extraordinary 
power,  and  of  possibilities  in  no  way  akin  to  unhappiness 
or  any  of  the  other  evils  predicted  on  a  by  no  means 
forgotten  occasion  by  his  uncle.  Yes,  Loic  was  what 
she  termed  in  her  heart  remarquablement  bien  reussi, 
and  conveyed  the  impression  of  a  singularly  well  -  knit 
union  of  strength,  beauty,  and  fineness. 

She  paused  in  the  act  of  plunging  her  tiny,  golden 
spoon  into  an  egg,  and  after  continuing  to  gaze  at  him  for 
a  few  musing  seconds  exclaimed,  with  a  queer  little  laugh: 

"5 


THE    TRIDENT    AND   THE    NET 

"Well,  if  your  ogreish  uncle  were  to  see  you  to-day 
he  could  not  but  be  conscious  of  the  foolishness  of  his 
prophecies!" 

Loic,  who  had  drawn  towards  him  a  dish  of  grilled 
sardines,  pushed  it  mechanically  away  without  helping 
himself. 

"Why,  Mamma,  what  had  Uncle  Rene  prophesied?" 
he  asked,  in  astonishment. 

"Oh,  a  lot  of  nonsense  about  my  being  unable  to  man- 
age you,  and  also  about  your  future,  which,  according  to 
him,  was  to  consist  of  a  succession  of  crimes  too  awful 
to  contemplate!"  It  was  a  remarkably  unwise  speech, 
and  she  knew  it;  but  the  wayward  spirit  that  dictated 
so  many  of  her  acts  was  strong  upon  her  that  morning, 
and  made  her  move  yet  one  step  farther  upon  the  perilous 
road  she  had  followed  from  the  first. 

Loic  again  turned  his  attention  to  the  sardines,  and, 
dexterously  removing  the  spine  from  one  of  those  tooth- 
some morsels,  said,  indifferently  enough:  "I  did  not 
know  that  you  and  Uncle  Re'ne'  had  quarrelled  about 
me.  Is  that  why  he  comes  here  so  seldom  now?" 

"I  don't  know;  perhaps  it  is!"  she  replied,  a  little 
hastily.  "He  comes  when  it  is  necessary,  which  is  quite 
often  enough,  for  he  is  a  singularly  morose  personage, 
this  good  Re'neV' 

"  Morose!  Surely  not,  Mamma!  He  is  as  jolly  as  jolly 
can  be  when  we  are  alone  together.  Why,  I  would  rather 
ride  or  sail  with  him  than  with  any  boy  of  my  own  age!" 

"That  is  a  matter  of  opinion  and  of  individual  taste, 
but  if  you  were  under  his  iron  rule,  you  would  soon  alter 
both,  my  child.  Do  you  think  that  he  would  let  you 
have  your  own  way  as  I  do,  give  you  everything  you 
want,  and  yield  to  all  your  fancies  and  caprices  however 
extravagant  they  may  be?" 

116 


THE   TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

Loic  laughed  his  ringing,  merry  laugh.  "Hum!  No, 
probably  not!  But  you  let  me  have  my  own  way  only 
when  it  does  not  interfere  with  yours,  Mamma,  and  so, 
after  all — " 

Madame  de  Kergoat's  eyes  suddenly  hardened. 

"You  are  extremely  ungrateful,  Loic,  for  you  know 
very  well  that  you  generally  do  just  as  you  please — a 
great  deal  too  much  so,  in  fact — but  you  will  see  the 
difference  when  you  join  the  Borda  at  Brest,  and  ex- 
change my  lenient  hand  for  that  of  its  commander. 
He  is  a  celebrated  martinet!" 

If  her  chances  of  Paradise  had  been  at  stake,  the 
Marquise  could  not,  that  fateful  morning,  have  resisted 
the  temptation  to  say  the  very  things  she  should  have 
most  avoided. 

Quietly  Loic  finished  dismembering  a  jellied  quail, 
signed  to  the  footman  "at  attention"  behind  his  mother's 
chair  to  hand  him  the  salad,  and,  after  carefully  and 
slowly  helping  himself,  said,  a  trifle  sulkily:  "Bother 
the  Borda!  You  must  not  forget,  my  dear  Mother, 
that  I  am  not  obliged  to  enter  either  the  navy  or  the 
army!  Monsieur  le  Cure*  says  that  I  am  Soutien  de 
Veuve  (only  son  of  a  widow),  and  that  if  I  don't  want 
to  serve  the  republic  I  am  exempt!  Of  course  you  are 
not  a  poor  widow  who  needs  support,"  he  continued, 
placidly  glancing  at  the  luxurious  breakfast  -  room,  the 
tall  footmen,  the  exquisitely  appointed  table;  "but  still 
I'm  sure  the  law  holds  as  good  in  our  case  as  in  that  of 
'Mere  Pillard,'  when  Armand  was  allowed  to  stay  home 
with  her  last  year  and  to  go  on  fishing,  even  after  he 
drew  a  bad  number  in  the  conscription.  I  don't  know 
whether  I'll  like  the  Borda,  and  if  I  don't  I'll  trot  back 
here  to  amuse  myself  as  best  I  can  until  I  come  of  age." 

Speechless  with  amazement  and  wrath,  Madame  de 

117 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

Kergoat  motioned  with  an  almost  violent  gesture  to 
the  servants,  who  had  just  placed  the  dessert  on  the 
table,  to  leave  the  room. 

"Are  we  to  take  the  coffee  here,"  Loic  asked,  "or  do 
you  want  it  as  usual  on  the  terrace?" 

"On  the  terrace,"  she  replied,  curtly,  "but  we  will 
stay  here,  if  you  please,  until  you  and  I  have  come  to  an 
understanding." 

"Oh,  well,  in  that  case  we  might  as  well  have  it  brought 
here!"  the  incorrigible  youngster  retorted,  with  a  shrug 
of  his  shoulders,  which  was  anything  but  respectful. 

Madame  de  Kergoat  pushed  back  her  chair,  and  taking 
a  cigarette  from  the  tiny  jewelled  case  hanging  with 
twenty  other  costly  trifles  on  her  chatelaine,  lit  it  with 
a  nervous  twirl  of  the  match,  and  her  black  eyes,  flashing 
dangerously,  turned  on  her  undutiful  son. 

"So  it  appears  that  you  intend  to  decide  for  yourself 
whether  or  not  you  will  enter  the  navy?"  she  remarked, 
with  fine  scorn.  "Pray  remember  that  I  am  master 
here,  and  also  the  means  of  correction  I  have  at  my  dis- 
posal, if  you  refuse  obedience." 

A  singular  look  leaped  for  an  instant  into  her  son's 
eyes,  then,  after  a  brief  pause,  he  coolly  stretched  out 
his  hand  towards  one  of  the  dishes  of  fruit,  artistically 
arranged  in  little  nests  of  autumn-tinted  leaves,  and  be- 
gan peeling  a  peche  de  Montreuil,  as  if  he  had  not  heard 
his  mother's  question. 

"Loic!"  she  exclaimed,  losing  what  was  left  of  her 
self-control.  "Loic,  don't  you  hear  what  I  say?" 

"  Why,  yes,  I  do;  but  if  you  are  going  to  make  a  moun- 
tain out  of  a  mole-hill,  as  usual,  I'd  much  rather  let  the 
wh<£le  matter  slide,  since  it  will  be  a  long  time  yet  be- 
fore we  need  make  up  our  minds  about  it." 

"I  wonder,"  she  said,  wrathfully,  "whether  you  real- 

118 


THE    TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

ize  how  insolent  you  are?"  Her  cheeks  had  suddenly 
lost  their  pretty  color,  and  her  voice  trembled  a  little. 

"I  don't  mean  to  be  impertinent,  Mamma,  I  assure 
you,"  was  the  perfectly  self-possessed  rejoinder;  "but 
you  are  going  to  nag  me,  I  know,  and  I  don't  want  to 
spoil  a  day  like  this,  just  when  Gaidik  is  coming  home 
for  a  month,  too!  It  would  be  absurd!" 

"Gaidik!  That  will  be  another  joy!"  sneered  Madame 
de  Kergoat.  "Upon  my  word,  you  certainly  are  always 
the  most  exasperating  child  a  mother  ever  had  to  put 
up  with;  but  when  your  sister  is  with  you,  you  are  ten 
thousand  times  worse,  impossible  as  it  may  seem." 

"I  don't  know  why  you  always  speak  so  meanly  of 
Gaid,  Mamma!  You  cannot  help  seeing  that  she  is  the 
best,  the  dearest,  and  the  most  beautiful  and  plucky  lit- 
tle woman  in  all  the  world!"  Loic  cried,  impatiently. 
"It  really  looks  as  if  you  were  jealous  of  her!" 

At  these  imprudent  words  something  snapped  and 
gave  way  within  her,  and  anger  held  full  sway,  mounting 
like  boiling  milk  on  a  hot  fire,  for  the  boy  had  hit  the 
truth.  Yes,  Gene  vie  ve  de  Kergoat  was  jealous — had  al- 
ways been  jealous — of  her  daughter,  had  grudged  her 
every  success,  every  affection,  and  from  the  moment 
when  the  child  had  become  her  father's  greatest  delight 
and  dearest  treasure,  to  the  present  day,  when  she  knew 
without  the  possibility  of  a  doubt  that  Loic  loved  and 
admired  her  more  than  he  did  any  one  else,  hatred  had 
been  growing  apace  in  this  strange  woman's  heart. 
Moreover,  she  felt  snubbed  and  humiliated  at  having 
been  found  out,  and,  therefore,  furious  with  Loic,  with 
Gaidik,  with  life — even  with  herself. 

Springing  from  her  chair,  she  rushed  towards  him 
with  a  sharp  clicking  of  her  little,  pointed  heels,  and 
before  he  was  aware  of  what  was  coming  she  had  him 

119 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

by  the  collar,  her  face  white  as  paper,  her  eyes  literally 
ablaze. 

"Jealous,  eh!"  she  gasped,  between  clinched  teeth. 
"That's  what  you  think,  is  it?"  shaking  the  unresisting 
boy  like  a  garment.  It  did  not  last  long,  but  while  it 
did  last  the  silence  was  broken  by  the  sound  of  well- 
directed  and  exceedingly  smart  blows,  and  soon  Madame 
de  Kergoat,  quite  exhausted,  stood  holding  on  to  the 
back  of  a  high  chair  with  trembling  little  jewelled  hands, 
breathing  heavily,  still  quite  livid,  and  with  lips  strangely 
colorless. 

Loic,  too,  had  grown  pale.  His  resolute  little  face  was 
set  and  cold,  like  the  face  of  a  grown  man  who  has  reached 
the  last  limit  of  endurance,  and  who  is  liable  to  become 
dangerous  when  his  self-control  breaks.  And  thus  glan- 
cing at  him,  Madame  de  Kergoat  felt  a  sudden  sensation 
of  physical  fear,  for  disgust  and  deadly  rage  were  fight- 
ing for  mastery  in  those  big,  gray  eyes — which  she  so  really 
and  so  passionately  loved — in  a  fashion  which  it  was  not 
pleasant  to  witness. 

"You  may  do  this  once  too  often!"  the  boy  said  at 
last,  a  little  breathlessly — as  if  he  had  been  running  hard 
— then  placing  one  hand  upon  a  heavy  serving-table, 
standing  in  front  of  the  window,  he  vaulted  it  cleanly, 
landed  in  the  garden  with  one  splendid  bound,  and  left 
her  to  digest  as  best  she  might  her  first  real  taste  of 
terror  regarding  the  future,  and  to  listen  helplessly  to 
the  swiftly  receding  patter  of  his  feet  as  he  raced  down 
a  side-path  leading  to  the  park  walls. 

The  silvery  light  was  not  as  soft  and  delicate  as  it 
had  been  in  the  early  morning,  the  shadows  were  still 
vaguer,  less  sharply  outlined,  and  although  one  might 
as  yet  have  ransacked  the  sky  in  vain  to  discover  any- 
thing but  fleecy,  pearl-hued  vapors,  the  air  had  become 

120 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

decidedly  more  buoyant  and  keener,  and  the  sea  had 
turned  from  its  warm  shimmer  to  cold,  glittering  steel. 

Presently,  as  Loic  reached  a  small,  ivy-garlanded  pos- 
tern-door, opening  directly  upon  the  cliff-path,  there  was 
a  violent  gush  of  wind,  strong,  smelling  of  brine  and  of 
sea-weed,  which  scattered  before  it  a  cloud  of  dead  leaves 
and  a  foam  of  pink  and  white  flower-petals. 

These  sudden  changes  are  not  rare  on  this  coast,  and 
the  angry  boy  realized  that  soon  the  storm  would  gather, 
and  the  rain  would  come  down  like  a  net-work  of  long 
strings  of  crystal  beads — as  Gaidik  used  to  say,  when 
they  both  eagerly  watched  for  these  swift  bourasques 
in  the  happy  days  of  what  now  seemed  to  him  so  very 
long  ago. 

"Thank  God,  she'll  be  here  to-night!"  he  muttered, 
squaring  his  shoulders,  and,  having  closed  the  postern 
carefully  behind  him,  he  headed  for  the  "Pointe  de  Ker- 
goat,"  one  of  the  most  rugged  and  dangerous  promon- 
tories of  that  line  of  dangerous  cliffs. 

His  whole  being  was  in  a  turmoil,  and  he  gazed  fiercely 
into  space  clinching  and  unclinching  his  fists,  and  actual- 
ly grinding  his  teeth — short  and  dazzlingly  white  like 
those  of  a  finely  bred  puppy. 

When  he  turned  the  first  angle  of  the  great  rock,  which 
bears  the  encouraging  name  of  Bac'h  ar  Ab-Vor  (Fang 
of  the  sea),  he  saw,  much  to  his  joy,  for  this  promise  of 
tempest  chimed  in  well  with  his  mood,  that  the  horizon 
and  the  distant  islands  were  swiftly  becoming  lapped 
in  thick,  black  clouds,  which  spread  with  astonishing 
rapidity,  spread  and  rose,  cancelling  the  pale  sky,  and 
covering  the  murmuring  waters  with  a  strange  and  un- 
canny curtain  of  sombre  folds  and  coppery  lights. 

With  a  strange  sort  of  avidity  Loic  drew  into  his  lungs 
the  pungency  of  the  rising  waves,  his  head  held  high,  his 

0  121 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

lithe,  active  form  defined  in  lines  of  perfect  strength  and 
symmetry  as  he  walked  boldly  on  the  very  edge  of  the 
sheer  drop  of  over  two  hundred  feet,  leaning  his  whole 
weight  against  the  now  rapidly  freshening  wind.  Grad- 
ually the  harsh  frown  of  anger  died  away  from  his  hand- 
some little  face,  and  he  began  to  hum  the  first  lines  of 
the  terrible  Chant  du  Raz  —  the  wildest  chant  in  all 
Brittany: 

"Tan!  Tan!  gwell    tarann!  tan! 
Dir!  Tan!  gwad  hac  gwin  adranl" 

Fire!   Fire!  windl   thunder  I  fire! 
Steel  I   Fire!  blood  and  tempest! 

the  savage  words  and  weird  melody  cutting  sharply 
through  the  now  tumultuous  atmosphere  because  at- 
tuned by  their  antique  composer  to  that  very  purpose. 
Two  or  three  big  drops  splashed  in  his  eyes,  and  then  the 
deluge  began,  and  the  reckless  force  of  the  bursting 
storm  was  heralded  by  the  customary  snarls  and  hoarse 
gurgles  of  the  tormented  wind,  accompanied  by  the 
rapid  crepitation  of  the  rain  against  the  stone-hewn 
path,  which  sounded  as  if  a  troop  of  iron-shod  kourrigans 
were  viciously  stamping  and  dancing  upon  it. 

It  was  a  splendid  transformation  scene,  and  Loic  ex- 
ulted in  it,  singing  louder  and  louder  and  louder,  as  the 
waves  began  to  dash  hungrily  against  the  falaise  and 
the  mews  flew  screeching  in  all  directions  above  and  be- 
low the  towering  verge. 

"Mauvais  temps  fa,  M'sieu'  I' Marquis?  Pour  sur  n' 
sallons  voir  un  grain!"  a  coast-guard  called  out  to  him 
from  his  little  guerite  poised  like  a  lump  of  brown  earth 
on  the  very  lip  of  the  cliff. 

"Tant-mieux,"  Loic  shouted  back,  running  up  to  the 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

quaint,  clumsy  sod  -  shelter,  and  diving  into  it  like  a 
rabbit  into  his  burrow.  "The  best  of  it,"  he  continued, 
laughing,  "  is  that  I'm  going  to  drive  to  Pernac  to  fetch 
Gaidik,  who  is  arriving  to-night.  Won't  it  be  a  lark?" 

"Madame  la  Duchesse  is  coming?  That's  good,  that's 
good!"  the  douanier  cried,  rubbing  his  hands  joyfully, 
his  weather-beaten  face  all  smiles  beneath  the  pointed 
hood  of  his  long  military  storm -coat.  "And  so  you  are 
going  in  this  weather  all  the  way  to  Pernac,  M'sieu' 
1'Marquis?  You'll  have  a  job,  that's  certain!" 

"I'll  like  it  immensely,  Guenndk  —  and,  by -the -way, 
I've  got  to  go  back  and  get  ready  now!"  Loic  cheerfully 
declared,  all  his  good  temper  restored,  as  he  glanced  at 
his  watch  and  saw  that  the  long  -  desired  hour  was  at 
hand.  "I  ordered  the  horses  for  two  o'clock  sharp,  and 
it's  a  good  trot  from  here  to  the  house." 

"Won't  you  take  my  caban,  M'sieu'  Loic?"  the  man 
asked,  eagerly,  beginning  to  unfasten  his  heavy  coat. 
"You'll  be  drenched  to  the  bones,  and  I'm  going  to  be 
off  duty  directly,  so  you  needn't  mind  my  catching  cold." 
This  with  a  ringing  laugh  at  the  idea  of  his  ever  catching 
cold. 

"No,  Guenne'k,  your  coat  would  be  too  large  for  me, 
and  I  can  run  much  better  as  I  am,  so  good-bye  and 
good-luck  to  you!  To-morrow  I'll  bring  Gaidik  to  see 
your  kids!"  With  which  pleasing  promise  M'sieu'  1' Mar- 
quis scampered  off  at  a  speed  of  ten  miles  an  hour  through 
the  driving  rain. 

"Un  si' crane  p'tit  gosse  /"  the  douanier  muttered  be- 
neath his  long  blond  mustaches,  as,  leaning  on  his  carbine, 
he  bent  forward  to  watch  the  gallant  little  figure  bound- 
ing as  buoyantly  as  a  cork  on  a  whirlpool  along  the  ex- 
treme edge  of  the  grim  rock-rampart. 

The  wind  moaned,  howled,  and  hooted,  and  when  Loic 

123 


THE    TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

let  himself  In  by  the  postern-door  the  beautiful,  shady 
paths  were  running  with  muddy  brooklets,  and  in  one 
or  two  places  whole  branches  had  been  broken  from  the 
trees  and  rested  on  a  snow  of  pink  and  white  rose-leaves 
torn  from  their  bending,  rustling  stems.  "What  a  pity!" 
thought  the  hurrying  boy,  with  a  little  pang  of  regret  at 
the  possibility  of  Gaidik's  not  finding  Kergoat  in  all  its 
glory.  Old  Bre're,  gardener  since  his  grandfather's  time, 
pottering  about  in  the  wet,  would  have  detained  him 
with  a  similar  lamentation,  but  laughingly  dodging  him 
and  jumping  over  dozens  of  little  pools  hollowed  into  the 
soupy  gravel,  he  cleared  the  last  lawn  at  a  gallop .  and 
raced  up- stairs  to  his  own  rooms  by  a  back  way,  un- 
desirous  to  meet  his  mother,  and  have  her  perchance 
rescind  her  permission  about  the  long  drive  to  fetch  his 
beloved  sister. 

Half  an  hour  later,  wearing  a  long  four-in-hand  coat 
and  a  Glengarry  cap,  he  marched  into  the  stable-yard 
and  apostrophized  the  mattre  d'Ecurie,  who,  with  hands 
thrust  deep  in  pockets,  was  graciously  surveying  the  har- 
nessing of  four  magnificent  bays. 

"Please  tell  my  mother,  Parker,  that  I  am  taking 
Gradlon  and  Hoe'l  with  me,  and  that  we  will  probably 
be  late  on  account  of  the  weather,"  he  said,  drawing  on 
his  driving-gloves  and  casting  a  knowing  glance  at  the 
heavy  sky. 

"It  has  rained  in  torrents  farther  up-country,  My 
Lord,"  the  English  stable-master — who  was  a  personage 
of  much  importance  at  Kergoat — said,  somewhat  appre- 
hensively. "The  roads  will  be  terrible  by  to-night.  Had 
I  not  better  accompany  Your  Lordship  myself?" 

This  was  a  great  concession  on  the  part  of  this  im- 
posing dignitary,  and  Loic  knew  it,  so  he  thanked  him 
with  all  proper  appreciation,  but  firmly  declined  the 

124 


OLD  BRERE 

The  gardener  at  Kergoat 


THE   TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

honor.  Swinging  himself  upon  the  high  seat,  he  grasped 
the  ribbons  and  drove  out  of  the  yard  in  so  correct  and 
masterful  a  fashion  that  even  the  hypercritical  Mr. 
Parker  could  find  no  fault  with  the  classicism  of  his 
style,  but  as  soon  as  he  was  out  of  sight  he  spun  down 
the  broad  causeway,  and  round  the  perilous  curves  where 
it  clings  to  the  almost  vertical  cliff-side,  at  a  pace  which 
rendered  the  two  ordinarily  impassive  grooms  behind  him 
scarcely  able  to  conceal  their  amusement  and  admiration. 

In  the  north  the  sky  was  clearer  than  it  had  been, 
but  the  dark  canopy  of  clouds,  vast  and  resembling  bales 
upon  bales  of  leaden-hued  cotton-wool,  still  clung  densely 
overhead,  and  a  fine,  determined  rain  had  set  in,  blur- 
ring the  whole  landscape. 

Soon  the  last  buttressed  angle  of  the  park  wall,  all 
shaggy -mantled  in  a  delicious  overgrowth  of  creepers  and 
ivy,  was  left  behind,  and  the  horses  settled  into  their 
road-pace,  while  Loic,  with  a  mischievous  grimace,  looked 
back  over  his  shoulder  at  the  stately  castle  towering  tow- 
ards the  brooding  heavens,  its  blue  -  and  -  silver  banner 
streaming  out  upon  the  wind  that  was  once  more  begin- 
ning to  liven  up  things. 

"What  luck!  What  amazing  luck,  that  I  was  not 
stopped!"  he  thought,  as  with  a  sense  of  intoxicating 
liberty  and  all-pervading  delight  he  saw  the  great  house 
disappear  behind  its  screen  of  trees  and  verdure. 

The  long  drive  to  Pernac,  the  nearest  railway  station, 
was  in  itself  no  joke  even  in  good  weather,  but  the  young 
master  of  Kergoat  enjoyed  every  inch  of  it,  and  his 
heart  beat  high  with  the  thought  of  soon  seeing  his 
Gaidik  again.  Moreover,  the  idea  of  going  alone,  and 
in  this  grown-up  way,  to  meet  her,  had  an  undeniable 
charm  for  the  adventurous,  independent  boy,  so  he  lis- 
tened with  the  utmost  cheerfulness  to  the  ever-rising 

125 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

clamor  of  the  sea  and  the  dismal  groans  of  the  wind- 
tormented  trees,  nor  did  the  cold  moisture  of  the  cling- 
ing atmosphere  in  the  least  chill  his  merriness. 

Be  it  said  also  to  his  honor  that  he  displayed  remark- 
able science  and  judgment  in  saving  his  cattle  from  any 
possible  mishap,  or  even  from  unnecessary  fatigue,  and 
finally  the  task  was  accomplished  when,  just  as  the  day 
drew  to  a  close,  he  reached  the  antique  and  eminently 
picturesque  little  hostelry  of  the  Duchesse  Anne,  where 
he  left  the  horses  in  the  care  of  Hoel,  and  went  on  with 
Gradlon  to  meet  the  Paris  express. 

The  little  station  of  Pernac,  which  stands  like  a  pariah 
outside  the  feudal  walls  of  the  little  town,  is  the  dullest, 
dreariest,  and — excepting  when  a  train  is  actually  on  its 
narrow,  metalled  frontage — the  most  silent  spot  on  earth. 
A  few  grave  peasant  women,  knitting  as  they  sat  be- 
neath the  flickering  oil -lamps,  wearily  waiting  for  the 
"fish -train"  to  bring  back  the  empty  baskets  sent  at 
dawn  to  Vannes  and  other  big  Breton  market  -  cities, 
were  its  sole  occupants,  together  with  a  few  sleepy  chil- 
dren crouching  at  their  feet,  while  outside  on  the  Landes 
small  black  cows  and  sturdy  little  black  pigs  with  ag- 
gressive sable  snouts  wandered  about  in  the  short,  salty 
grass  among  clumps  of  shaggy  gorse,  and  the  eternal, 
blackberry -grown,  loose  stone  walls  that  are  the  fences 
of  that  region.  The  blue-slate  roof  of  the  station  itself 
looked  exceeding  grim  and  naked  in  spite  of  the  loyal 
efforts  of  a  meagre,  ragged  white  rose  to  clamber  tow- 
ards its  one  brick  chimney,  and  as  the  station-master, 
an  old  man  much  loved  and  esteemed  in  Pernac,  came 
out  to  meet  him,  Loic  could  not  help  thinking  that  his 
lot  must  not  always  be  a  very  enviable  one. 

"Ah,  Monsieur  le  Marquis!"  said  this  cheery  personage, 
rubbing  his  hands  with  a  good-humor  which  no  outward 

126 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

circumstances  of  weather  or  like  discomforts  could  ever 
impair.  "So  Madame  la  Duchesse  is  arriving  to-night? 
I  was  advised  this  morning  that  I  would  have  to  side- 
track her  private  car  until  the  next  express,  which  will 
take  it  away  again.  You'll  be  mighty  glad  to  see  her 
again,  won't  you?  It  must  be  a  year  since  she  was  here 
last?" 

"Yes,  Monsieur  Guyarmark,  a  whole  year!"  Loic  re- 
plied, his  eyes  dancing  with  joyful  anticipation,  "but  of 
course  I  spent  two  months  with  her  last  winter  at  Cannes 
— still — oh  yes,  I  will  be  glad  to  see  her  again!"  and  he 
he  drew  a  long,  tremulous  breath  of  delight. 

The  night  was  approaching,  and  so  gloomy  was  the 
tempestuous  sky  that  darkness  was  setting  in  two  hours 
earlier  than  usual.  As  the  express  at  last  came  tearing 
along  the  interminable  bleakness  of  the  plain,  there  was 
a  continual  sound  of  splashing  waters,  audible  even 
above  the  noise  of  its  polished  wheels  and  throbbing 
engine.  It  only  paused  for  a  second  to  allow  the  un- 
coupling of  the  private  car  from  its  farthest  end,  and 
moved  rapidly  on  again,  leaving  it  stranded  in  front  of 
Monsieur  Guyarmark's  tiny  plot  of  variegated  petunias. 

With  a  shout  of  welcome  Loic  rushed  towards  it,  and 
was  met  on  the  steps  by  a  dainty  little  figure  wearing  a 
long,  tight-fitting  tan  coat,  the  quaint  little  hood  of 
which  was  partly  drawn  over  a  thick  coronal  of  auburn 
braids,  sparkling  where  the  light  of  a  lamp  caught  them 
like  a  sort  of  coppery  glory. 

"Gaid!" 

"Loic!" 

The  brother  and  sister  were  locked  fast  in  each  other's 
arms,  both  almost  crying  with  the  joy  of  this  reunion, 
the  two  pairs  of  identical  gray  eyes  dark  with  the  intense 
feeling  which  no  one  else  in  the  world  could  arouse  in 

127 


THE    TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

either  of  them,  for  these  two  were  celebrated  for  their 
extraordinary  coldness! 

"So  it  is  you,  at  last,  Honeylocks?"  Loic  repeated  for 
the  twentieth  time,  when,  a  few  minutes  later,  they  sat 
down  close  together  on  one  of  the  luxurious  couches  in 
the  salon  of  the  Duchess's  little  rolling  palace. 

"Now,  what  a  question!"  protested  Gaidik,  laughing 
from  sheer  lightness  of  heart.  "Do  you  expect  me  to 
vouch  for  my  identity?" 

"I  don't  know;  you  look  exactly  as  if  you  had  stepped 
out  of  some  fourteenth-century  painting,  with  your  long, 
peak-hooded  surtout  like  that  of  an  ancient  arbaletrier," 
and  again  he  hugged  her  like  a  bear,  stopping  to  eye  her 
in  critical  enjoyment,  his  sunny  head  cocked  a  little  on 
one  side. 

"Shall  we  set  out  at  once?"  he  asked,  bringing  this 
examination  abruptly  to  an  end;  "or  do  you  want  to 
try  the  cooking  of  the  Duchesse  Anne?" 

"Nothing  of  the  kind!  We'll  dine  here  quickly  and 
then  take  the  road;  but  tell  me,  Loic  Ab-Vor,  are  you 
alone?" 

"Yes,  that's  the  fun  of  it;  they  did  let  me  come  alone 
— that  is,  with  Gradlon  and  Hoel  sitting  solemnly  behind 
me;  by-the-way,  poor  Gradlon  is  out  there  in  the  rain 
eating  his  heart  out  for  a  glimpse  of  you." 

"Oh,  Loic!"  and  with  one  of  her  swift,  graceful  darts 
the  little  Duchess  rushed  out  on  the  platform,  calling: 
"Gradlon!  Gradlon!  Where  are  you?"  and  all  but  fell 
in  his  arms  as  he  came  running  out  of  the  gloom  at  the 
sound  of  her  dearly  beloved  voice. 

By  this  time  Gaidik's  own  servants  had  hastily  dished 
up  a  succulent  little  meal,  to  which  she  and  Loic  sat 
down  with  ravenous  appetites. 

Square  and  quite  spacious  was  the  little  salon,  the 

128 


THE    TRIDENT    AND   THE    NET 

ceiling  and  the  walls  panelled  in  tan-colored  leather,  the 
floor  covered  with  a  thick  Aubusson  carpet  of  pale  tur- 
quoise woven  with  the  Kergoat  and  d'Aspremont  arms, 
the  plate-glass  windows  surrounded  by  garlands  of  ivy 
growing  in  broad,  turquoise-blue  jardinieres.  Everywhere 
were  scattered  comfortable  tan  leather  arm-chairs  and 
settees,  and  two  stout  tables  carved  out  of  light-colored 
oak,  one  littered  with  books  and  periodicals,  the  other 
exquisitely  set  with  glittering  silver,  crystal,  and  snowy 
napery,  and  graced  by  an  immense  bunch  of  violets, 
stood  on  each  side  of  a  round  ottoman,  from  the  midst 
of  which  emerged  a  bronze-vased  palm. 

Bending  forward,  Gaidik,  who  had  cast  off  her  cloak 
and  revealed  an  admirably  made  but  severely  plain  white 
cloth  gown,  peeped  into  a  covered  dish. 

"Omelette  aux  Cepes  /"  she  cried,  joyously.  "Deli- 
cious! And  if  it  hadn't  been  for  my  sagacity  and  fore- 
thought, do  you  know  what  you  would  have  had  ?  Well, 
grilled  lobster  to  begin  with — imagine  bringing  lobsters 
to  Brittany;  it's  like  coals  to  Newcastle — travelled  lob- 
sters, lobsters  who  have  seen  the  world — that's  what  you 
would  have  had!"  she  declared,  tragically.  "But  I 
threw  myself  into  the  breach  and  forbade  such  heresy. 
I  sent  my  compliments  to  Celestin — Celestin,  you  will 
remember,  is  my  travelling  chef,  who,  like  his  lobsters, 
has  seen  much  country — and  bade  him  treat  my  long-lost 
brother's  stomach  with  exceptional  tenderness  and  more 
a  propos.  Hence  the  omelette  aux  Cepes,  which  is  to  be 
followed  by  plain,  unadulterated,  honest,  truffled  beef- 
steak, salad,  chocolate  eclairs — one  of  your  predilections, 
if  I  am  correct — fruit,  and  coffee,  with  a  dash  of  candied 
violets  —  my  favorite  tipple  —  to  give  the  menu  a  dis- 
tinguished finish.  Now,  what  do  you  say?" 

Loic  piled  his  plate  with  omelet.  "You're  a  wonder! 

129 


THE    TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

Sit  up  and  tie  your  napkin  round  your  neck,  as  Fraulein 
Camilla  used  to  tell  you  at  every  meal.  Good  old  Camilla! 
I  wonder  if  she's  alive  still,  or  if  the  worry  of  finishing 
your  education  induced  slow  decline!  This  omelet  really 
isn't  bad;  you'd  better  take  some  more  before  I  devour 
it  all." 

But  Gaidik  declined  a  second  helping,  and  Loic  de- 
voured it  all. 

"Come,  Noble  Dame!"  he  exhorted,  selecting  the  most 
truffled  portions  from  the  "honest"  beefsteak  for  her 
consumption,  "we  have  a  long  road  before  us,  and,  since 
I  am  pretty  certain  that  you  will  want  to  drive  the  bays, 
you'd  better  fortify  yourself." 

"The  bays!  Of  course  I'll  drive  them.  Are  they  still 
as  frisky  as  of  yore?" 

"More  so.  They  labor  under  a  sort  of  constantly 
foiled  yearning  to  precipitate  themselves  into  the  hedges 
and  ditches.  You'll  have  to  look  sharp,  too,  because 
they  are  afraid  of  the  dark,  and  shy  at  it  like  superstitious 
old  maids — but  what's  that,  don't  you  want  some  eclairs, 
nor  even  one  or  two  'dashes'  of  your  favorite  candied 
violets?" 

Gaidik  had  risen,  and,  seating  herself  on  the  arm  of 
her  brother's  chair,  she  now  with  calculated  deliberation 
produced  her  cigarette  -  case.  "  No,  I'm  too  pleased  to 
eat  much.  Give  me  a  match,  Nimbletongue,  and  as  soon 
as  you  have  quite  satisfied  your  indecent  appetite  we 
will  make  a  rush  for  home,  which — being  given  the  howl- 
ing wind  and  avalanches  of  water  I  hear  buffeting  our 
humble  refuge — we  will  reach  when  God  pleases." 

Indeed,  the  weather  had  grown  gradually  "dirtier" 
and  "dirtier";  the  wind  was  increasing,  while  the  dense 
mass  of  tossing  clouds  had  closed  in,  and  now  overspread 
every  corner  of  the  sky  with  an  impenetrable  sable  pall. 

130 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

"Are  your  oil-skins  where  your  maid  can  easily  reach 
them  ?"  Loic  asked,  a  little  anxiously,  for  even  this  reck- 
less youth  was  beginning  to  see  that  this  was  no  night 
in  which  to  drive  a  woman — even  his  tomboy  sister — for 
mile  upon  mile  of  storm-lashed  road.  Gaidik,  however, 
thought  otherwise,  and  laughed  his  dawning  fears  away, 
earnestly  begging  him  to  remember  that  she  was  not  an 
ordinary  fine  lady  to  be  terrified  by  a  puff  of  wind,  and 
then,  noticing  the  unusual  gravity  of  his  eyes,  she  ended 
her  peroration  by  throwing  her  arms  round  his  neck 
with  a  "  Mon  petit  Frerot,  je  Vaime,  va!"  which  made  him 
so  happy  that  he  forgot  all  save  the  intense  joy  of  having 
her  close  to  him  again. 

A  cluster  of  people  had  gathered  round  the  deeply 
mullioned  and  exquisitely  carved  porch  of  the  little 
hostelry  to  see  them  depart,  and  some  of  them  expressed 
encouraging  doubts  as  to  the  safety  of  the  roads,  telling 
of  great  trees  which  had  been  uprooted  and  of  slates  fly- 
ing from  roofs,  but  it  was  now  too  late  for  Gaidik  and 
Loic  to  alter  their  plans,  even  if  they  had  been  so  in- 
clined, and  contenting  themselves  with  recommending 
to  the  coachman  in  charge  of  the  servants  and  the  lug- 
gage-fourgon  to  drive  very  cautiously  by  the  longer  but 
safer  inland  road,  they  started  as  merrily  as  if  the  night 
had  been  an  idyllic  and  gloriously  moonlit  one. 

As  they  left  the  shelter  of  the  little  town  behind  them, 
however,  the  wind,  which  was  blowing  dead  on  shore 
from  the  maddened  sea,  began  to  have  its  effects,  and 
the  horses  made  serious  difficulties  about  facing  its  ter- 
rors. 

"  Won't  you  let  me  drive  ?"  Loic  shouted,  as  he  watched 
the  little  hands  so  steadily  and  coaxingly  gripping  the 
ribbons. 

"Not  a  bit  of  it!"  Gaidik  shouted  back;  "but  here,  hold 


THE   TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

the  brutes  while  I  slip  off  my  rings.  You  can  stick  them 
in  your  pocket."  And  this  once  done  she  settled  to  her 
task  once  more  with  all  her  old  energy  and  stubbornness  of 
purpose,  never  once  faltering  or  hesitating,  even  when 
the  leaders  turned  right  -  about  -  face  or  came  to  a  dead 
stop  after  showing  a  decided  predilection  for  travelling 
awhile  on  their  hind-legs. 

As  they  struggled  on  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  sea, 
powdered  spray  and  salty  rain  were  carried  before  the 
hurricane  and  beat  upon  their  faces  like  showers  of 
sharp  needles,  while  the  blinding  wind  and  flying  particles 
of  sand  made  the  situation  a  very  bad  one  for  the  brother 
and  sister  on  their  high  perch.  Evidently,  if  such  a  wind 
could  rise,  it  was  still  rising,  and  the  deafening  tumult  of 
the  waves  —  notwithstanding  the  quite  respectable  dis- 
tance still  intervening  between  the  shore  and  the  road 
they  followed — became  something  fearful.  Talking  was, 
of  course,  quite  out  of  the  question ;  all  that  could  be 
achieved  was  to  guide  the  horses  as  prudently  as  pos- 
sible along  the  dark,  dismal  chaussee,  strewn  thickly, 
even  at  that  height  above  the  water,  with  shredded, 
slippery  sea -weed,  and  patched  with  white  puddles 
lashed  into  miniature  whirlpools  by  the  shrieking  wind. 

At  Kervallet,  a  tiny  hamlet  a  little  over  half-way,  they 
stopped  for  a  few  moments  to  breathe  the  horses  and 
have  them  hastily  rubbed  down  without  unharnessing, 
and  there  a  couple  of  grizzled  old  salts  told  them  that 
four  sardine-boats  had  gone  down  with  all  hands  on  the 
rocks  of  Plouharna'c,  a  few  miles  away,  shaking  their  heads 
sadly  as  they  spoke  before  the  roaring  fire  of  the  inn  kitch- 
en, where  sides  of  bacon  and  long  garlands  of  onions  and 
dried  herbs  hung  from  the  smoky  rafters,  and  where  some 
women  whose  husbands  and  sons  were  even  then  out  in 
their  Sinagots — which,  for  all  they  knew,  might  already 

132 


THE    TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

have  foundered  amid  the  high,  watery  walls  rolling  in 
with  the  crash  of  thunder  against  the  jagged  teeth  of 
the  terrible  Ar-Zod  reefs — were  sobbing  bitterly,  their 
aprons  thrown  over  their  white  coifjes. 

With  saddened  hearts  the  brother  and  sister  once 
more  turned  their  faces  to  the  tempest,  hoping  that  as 
the  night  advanced  the  wind  would  moderate  sufficiently 
to  allow  the  fishing-boats  to  run  to  shelter.  An  old  in- 
habitant of  Kervallet  accompanied  them  to  the  door, 
slowly  enumerating  in  a  doleful,  dirgelike  mumble  the 
names  of  twenty  -  two  Sinagots  wrecked  within  three 
short  years  in  plain  sight  of  the  very  porch  where  they 
now  stood;  and  yet  more  painfully  impressed  by  this 
timely  information,  they  stumbled  towards  their  snort- 
ing, champing  horses,  anxiously  peering  out  to  sea,  though 
the  darkness  was  too  intense  to  allow  them  to  discern 
anything  save  a  wild  confusion  of  towering  hills  and 
bastions  of  a  slightly  paler  hue  than  the  inky  sky,  which 
they  knew  were  the  maddened  waves  rushing  to  the 
assault  of  the  cliffs.  They  shook  hands  all  round,  with 
that  subtle  and  silent  fellowship  which  draws  together 
all  coast  Bretons  under  such  circumstances,  and,  without 
any  clear  idea  of  how  their  own  venture  would  ter- 
minate, started  off  to  try  and  make  the  best  of  it,  their 
square  chins  thrust  forward,  their  resolute  lips  set,  their 
eyes  impassive  in  an  exact  similarity  of  expression  which 
would  have  seemed  almost  ludicrous  to  an  observer  had 
there  been  one  there. 

In  the  difficulty  of  hearing  anything  but  winds  and 
waves,  in  the  unspeakable  confusion  of  the  heavens  and 
the  solid  earth,  and  wearied  by  their  now  nearly  breath- 
less efforts  to  resist  the  onslaughts  of  the  storm,  they 
plodded  silently  onward,  always  onward,  exchanging 
places  now  and  then  when  one  pair  of  hands  grew  too 

J33 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

numbed  to  retain  the  necessary  delicate  feel  of  the 
horses'  mouths.  All  through  the  wild  tumult  of  that 
September  night  they  did  what  was  necessary,  quite 
simply,  with  the  impassiveness  which  was  in  keeping 
with  the  above-mentioned  square  chins  and  resolute 
eyes,  and  when  at  last,  after  again  and  again  walking 
with  Gradlon  and  Hoel  beside  the  trembling,  frightened 
horses  to  lead  and  reassure  them,  they  saw  the  lights  of 
Kergoat  twinkling  dimly  through  the  flying  sand  and 
spindrift,  they  had  nothing  to  say,  although  each  drew  a 
sharp  little  sigh  of  relief. 

It  was  funny,  after  all  this,  as  Loic  said,  to  enter  the 
magnificent  green -and -gold  inner  hall,  with  its  gorgeous 
tapestries,  its  heavy  Verdure  Flamande  curtains,  its 
immense  emblazoned  twin  fireplaces,  in  which  roaring 
logs  were  burning,  and  where  all  was  so  calm  and  full 
of  quiet,  luxurious  security.  Wet  as  they  were,  they 
sat  down  before  the  huge  upper  hearth,  Gaidik,  leaning 
back  in  a  deep  easy  -  chair,  her  tired  little  hands  fold- 
ed in  her  lap,  her  pretty  little  feet  resting  on  the  and- 
irons, smiling  contemplatively  up  at  Loic  from  under 
the  tossed  and  dishevelled  abundance  of  her  tawny 
hair. 

Here  a  courteously  frigid  little  note,  penned  by  their 
fond  mother  before  retiring  to  her  bed,  was  brought  to 
them,  expressing  regrets  that  a  severe  headache,  caused 
no  doubt  by  the  very  trying  storm,  should  have  deprived 
her  of  the  pleasure  of  joining  them  at  the  supper  which 
stood  in  readiness. 

Loic  laughed  as  he  read  over  his  sister's  shoulder. 

"What's  the  matter?"  she  asked,  her  own  lips  twitch- 
ing slightly. 

"Nothing  much.     I'm  merely  amused,"  he  replied. 

Gaidik  sat  up. 

134 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

"Well,  you  know,  Frerot,  it's  past  two  o'clock."  She 
fixed  him  with  her  humorous,  brilliant  eyes. 

"Of  course,"  he  acquiesced.  "I  had  forgotten  that 
detail — also  that  nothing  ever  surprises  you."  He  took 
her  hand,  bent  over  it  with  the  manner  of  a  courtier  of 
Louis  XIV. 's  time,  and  touched  it  almost  reverently  with 
his  lips,  for  even  to  his  boyish  mind  the  ever-forgiving 
attitude  of  the  gracious  little  figure  in  the  huge  easy-chair 
had  something  that  was  infinitely  beautiful. 

And  after  that  came  supper,  and  a  much-needed  rest 
for  these  two  quaint  little  survivals  from  a  by-gone  age. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

You  feed  him  high,  you  let  him  range 
Unfenced,  unfettered;  let  the  change 
Of  wood  and  pasture,  dale  and  hill, 
Waken  old  instincts  sleeping  still; 
The  bright  eyes  through  the  tangled  mane 
Gaze  the  red  dawn  upon  the  plain; 
The  quivering  nostrils,  velvet-skinned, 
Drink  the  strange  promptings  of  the  wind, 
Till  with  the  sweep  of  wild  sea  wings 
Each  steel-web  muscle  plays  and  swings; 
Till  stubborn,  fierce,   and  swift  doth  he 
Move  like  a  wave  upon  the  sea. 
Then,  if  he  burst  the  bridle-rein, 
You  cry,   "Our  care  is  all  in  vain! 
The  brute,  he's  vicious!     Work  him  hard!" 
***** 

And  kill  him  in  the  breaking-yard. 

M.  M. 

WHEN  they  awoke,  six  hours  later,  great  gusts  of  wind 
were  still  sweeping  around  Kergoat  with  undiminished 
vigor,  rattling  the  thick  mantle  of  ivy-leaves  on  the 
crenellated  towers,  and  ending  in  strange,  wailing  noises 
which  sounded  like  the  despairing  cries  of  thousands  of 
drowning  creatures.  Whenever  a  door  or  window  was 
opened  for  a  moment  it  let  in  fierce  blasts  that  filled  the 
long  corridors  and  galleries  and  threatened  to  tear  the 
ancient  tapestries  from  the  walls.  A  true  wild  day  of 
Brittany,  a  day  with  the  dark -green  seas  yawning  in 
fathomless  graves,  and  the  cruel  hissing  of  the  water 
filling  every  moment  of  lull  between  the  appalling  shrieks 

136 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

of  the  tempest.  The  rocky  escarpments  at  the  base  of 
the  castle  cliff  gleamed  intermittently  like  steel  fangs  in 
the  slaver  of  the  waves,  beneath  the  vague,  diffused,  stormy 
light  of  a  sky  where  great  hosts  of  sombre  clouds  were 
hurled  together  with  the  force  and  stubbornness  of  un- 
ceasingly attacking  armies. 

It  was  ten  o'clock,  fires  burned  brightly  on  every 
hearth  within  the  grim  old  sea-fortress,  flashing  fitfully 
on  the  grandeur  of  its  halls  and  rooms,  and  upon  the 
banks  of  exotics  which  perfumed  its  every  embrasure. 
Inside  peace  and  luxury  reigned  supreme,  with  no  sound 
higher  than  the  low,  murmuring  voices  of  well-trained 
servants  walking  softly  to  and  fro  in  the  swift  accom- 
plishment of  their  various  duties,  outside  all  was  noise 
and  confusion,  the  angry  roar  of  the  ocean  answering  the 
mad  challenge  of  the  wind  with  a  violence  equal  to  its 
own. 

The  gale,  however,  was  nearing  its  height — that  is,  it 
was  blowing  even  harder  than  it  had  blown  all  through 
the  long,  howling,  waiting  night,  hurling  itself  into  the 
embayments  of  the  towering  cliffs,  where  it  seemed  to 
concentrate  funnel-wise,  shredding  the  waves  into  a  scat- 
tered dust  of  foam  and  tearing  destructively  through  the 
trees  of  the  park.  When  Nature  is  wroth  in  Brittany,  she 
speaks  in  no  uncertain  voice. 

While  sitting  at  breakfast  Gaidik  and  Loic  were  sum- 
moned to  poor  old  Mere  Corentine's  death -bed.  She 
was  a  woman  of  many  sorrows,  to  whom  life  had  been 
harsh  and  unkind,  for,  as  already  told,  her  daughter 
Jeannik  was  all  that  was  left  to  her  of  a  once  splendid 
family.  Her  handsome,  stalwart  boys  had  been  very 
much  like  their  father  —  a  celebrated  Beau  gars,  who, 
when  he  had  indulged  in  too  many  bolees  de  cidre  and 
petit  verres — as  is,  alas!  the  habit  of  many  Breton  fisher- 

'37 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

men  and  salt-workers  to  do — was  wont  to  be  violent  in 
his  angers  and  intolerant  of  all  reproach.  Poor  Coren- 
tine  had  remained  somewhat  taciturn  and  very  grave 
since  this  dreaded  but  yet  dearly  beloved  husband's  dis- 
appearance in  a  white  squall  off  the  Kergoat  rocks  many 
years  before.  She  had  courageously  and  untiringly  earn- 
ed her  own  and  her  children's  living  by  carrying  enor- 
mous wooden  bowls  of  salt  on  her  head  at  night  from  the 
Marais — an  arduous  and  ill -paid  labor — or,  when  this 
failed  her,  by  knitting  for  the  sailors  of  the  village  those 
amazingly  enduring  tricots  of  intricate  patterns  which 
are  their  Sunday  and  week-day  garb,  by  spinning  the 
wool  wherewith  belinge  *  is  made,  by  making  fishing- 
nets,  and  sewing  sails,  the  coarse  canvas  of  which  caused 
even  her  strong  fingers  to  bleed.  To  the  last  she  had 
been  active  and  very  hardy,  disdaining  to  accept  the 
help  of  her  rich  son-in-law,  and  had  lived  in  a  stern, 
grim  fashion  that  made  her  neighbors  a  little  afraid  of 
her.  After  the  Mer  Sauvage  had  taken  all  her  sons,  and 
ever  since  Jeannik's  marriage,  she  had  dwelt  alone  with 
her  dead  memories.  Often  she  would  bolt  her  door  and 
shut  out  the  sight  of  the  moon-lit  sea  and  the  sombre 
reefs  that  hid  her  dead,  and  wistfully  remember  how  she 
had  watched  and  waited  for  them  on  many  a  stormy 
night  when  they  were  out  deep-water  fishing,  or  even, 
when  for  once  in  a  way  they  were  ashore,  how  she  had 
listened  in  vain  for  their  uncertain  steps  while  they  lin- 
gered in  the  cabaret,  ruining  their  tempers  and  their 
healths  with  too  oft  -  repeated  doses  of  calvados^  that 
curse  of  the  Breton  coast.  They  are  good  fellows,  our 
Breton  fishermen,  stanch  and  loyal  as  steel,  but  after 
a  heavy  catch  they  drink  invariably  too  much,  and  then 

*  A  coarse,  almost  indestructible  linsey-woolsey,  the  universal 
wear  of  the  peasantry.  t  A  kind  of  strong  brandy. 

138 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

they  become  truly  terrible.  That  is  a  fact  which  cannot, 
alas!  be  denied,  and  it  takes  a  born  Breton — or  Bretonne 
— to  feel  the  pulse  of  that  strange  people  beat,  to  judge 
them  rightly,  and  to  love  them  as  they  deserve  to  be 
loved,  in  spite  of  this  one  frightful  drawback. 

Now,  however,  Mere  Coren tine's  course  was  run,  and 
soon  she  would  rejoin  her  loved  ones  where  there  is  no 
more  sea,  but  before  her  weary  eyes  closed  forever  she 
wished  once  more  to  look  upon  the  faces  of  her  dear  young 
Seigneurs,  wherefore  a  little  mousse  had  been  sent  in  haste 
to  the  castle  in  quest  of  them. 

Hurrying  through  the  narrow  village  street — since  the 
path  along  the  beach  was  quite  impracticable  with  a 
northwest  tide  racing  in  before  a  northwesterly  wind — 
Gaidik  and  Loic  were  forced  to  hold  on  to  each  other  for 
support  against  the  terrible  tempest  blasts,  and  occasion- 
ally stop  to  gasp  for  breath.  To  the  east  there  were 
miles  of  impassable  shore,  of  unbroken  and  unscalable 
cliff;  to  the  west  there  was  the  same,  and  right  in  front 
of  them  a  hundred  resistless  cross-currents  were  piling 
up  waves  upon  waves  to  a  height  almost  unbelievable. 

"How  magnificent!"  Gaidik  cried,  pausing  to  wipe  the 
rain  and  driving  spindrift  from  her  eyes,  and  gazing  at 
the  strange,  ghostly  light  lying  on  the  face  of  the  waters 
—that  light  which  landsmen  never  see. 

They  were  both  clad  from  head  to  foot  in  gleaming 
oil-skins,  the  strings  of  their  sou'westers  solidly  tied  be- 
neath their  chins,  and  though  subdued  in  spirit  by  their 
sad  errand,  they  enjoyed  this  struggle  against  the  storm 
as  if  they  had  not  already  had  their  fill  of  it  during  the 
night.  In  a  short  lull  they  pushed  on,  Laic  acquiescing 
by  a  mere  appreciative  nod,  for  what  with  the  wind  and 
the  ear-flaps  of  the  sou'westers  it  was  hard  to  make  one's 
self  heard  though  their  two  faces  almost  touched. 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

Now  and  again  when  they  lost  the  shelter  of  the  strag- 
gling houses  they  literally  could  not  stand,  and  were 
forced  to  crouch  at  the  foot  of  the  low  stone  walls  bor- 
dering both  sides  of  the  way,  until  another  lull  permitted 
them  to  proceed;  but  they  laughed  even  when  they 
stumbled  and  fell — as  several  times  happened  to  both 
— upon  the  sea-weed-littered  ground,  casting  as  soon  as 
they  were  up  again  looks  of  heart-felt  admiration  on  the 
crests  of  foam  and  spray  galloping  landward,  and  the 
terrifying  sky  showing  livid  through  furiously  tossing 
black  clouds. 

It  was  raining  hard  again  when  they  at  last  reached 
the  little  granite  house  where  their  old  friend  was  fight- 
ing her  last  fight,  her  tired,  knotted  hands  crossed  pa- 
tiently on  her  breast,  her  sculptural  features  bleached 
by  illness  to  a  far  greater  whiteness  than  that  of  her 
coarse,  scrupulously  clean  pillow.  Outside  the  door 
Herve^s  dog  was  howling  incessantly. 

Loic  and  Gaidik  entered  with  a  silent  greeting  to 
Jeannik,  who,  a  flaxen-haired  baby  in  her  lap  and  one 
but  little  larger  clinging  to  her  skirts,  was  sitting  in  the 
hearth  corner  knitting  mechanically  and  nervously,  while 
large  tears  followed  one  another  slowly  and  ceaselessly 
down  her  pretty  but  already  somewhat  faded  face. 
Near  by  sat  old  Mere  Vaillant  —  well  named  for  one 
who  was  midwife,  sick -nurse,  and  layer -out  of  the 
dead  for  all  the  district  round — wrapped  in  professional 
calm. 

Swiftly  Gaidik  crossed  to  the  bedside,  and,  stooping 
over  the  dying  woman,  said,  gently,  "Do  you  know 
me,  Mere  Corentine?" 

The  glazed  eyes  opened  wide,  and  the  white  lips  whis- 
pered, "  Yes,  I  know  you,  my  little  girl — I  know  you,"  and 
she  gazed  dimly  from  the  Duchess  to  Loic,  who  stood  at 

140 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

the  foot  of  her  bed  with  a  world  of  awe  and  sympathy  on 
his  young  face. 

Strange  shadows  were  flickering  about  the  dusky  little 
room,  where  years  before  Jeannik  had  donned  her  brill- 
iant wedding  garments.  Now  and  again  a  fitful  gleam 
from  the  logs  of  drift-wood,  which  had  been  thrown  on 
the  ever-present  turf  fire,  threw  into  high  relief  the  hand- 
some clothes  -  press  and  carved  Bahuts,  then  died  away 
again,  leaving  the  small,  stone-walled  space  to  the  mercy 
of  the  sad  storm-light  filtering  parsimoniously  through 
the  creeper-grown  lucarne. 

A  wild  gust  shook  the  solid  house,  and  Mere  Coren- 
tine  murmured:  "The  storm — the  storm  that  took  all 
my  sons  away!  It  is  coming  for  me  now!"  Gaidik  was 
holding  the  poor,  hard-working  hand  between  her  little, 
jewelled  fingers,  caressing  it  softly.  "The  waves  were 
their  winding-sheet,  but  I  must  be  put  into  the  ground," 
the  poor  old  woman  continued,  with  that  dread  of  being 
thrust  into  the  earth  which  every  coast  Breton  has  at  his 
or  her  heart,  for  they  deem  the  ocean  their  only  fitting 
sepulchre.  "The  sea  is  our  grave,"  they  all  say,  "but 
the  great  water  that  tosses  our  drowned  bodies  about 
will  wash  them  into  a  safe  haven,  aided  by  true  Breton 
prayers  for  our  souls."  She  too,  therefore,  would  rather 
have  died  in  that  sea  which  had  been  at  once  her  greatest 
enemy  and  her  unfailing  source  of  livelihood  through 
seventy  years  of  existence ;  but  one  does  not  choose  one's 
mode  of  departure,  and  to  that  as  to  other  things  she  was 
trying  to  be  resigned. 

Jeannik,  clasping  her  baby  close  in  her  arms,  had  risen 
and  was  courageously  trying  to  control  her  sobs,  while 
her  other  little  one  pulled  at  her  apron  whimpering  in  a 
helpless  and  instinctive  manner.  Loic  stooped  and  lifted 
it,  holding  it  against  his  shoulder  where  it  nestled  con- 
Mi 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

tentedly,  one  chubby  hand  laid  confidingly  against  his 
neck. 

"Has  Monsieur  le  Cur^  been  here?"  Gaidik  asked,  in  a 
whisper. 

A  faint  gleam  of  troubled  intelligence  overspread 
Mere  Corentine's  wan  features.  "Ah,  yes!"  she  mur- 
mured, her  fingers  picking  feebly  at  the  beads  of  the 
rosary  lying  upon  her  breast.  "He  gave  me  my  pass- 
ports all  complete,  Monsieur  le  Recteur!"  and  the  shadow 
of  a  smile  hovered  on  her  once  stern  face.  She  was  en 
regie  with  the  Almighty  was  Mere  Corentine — ay,  and 
had  long  been  so  if  the  truth  were  told,  and  fortunately 
for  her  at  this  hour  she  knew  it. 

Presently  her  lips  moved  again,  and  she  began  to 
mutter  disconnected  sentences  in  that  tone  of  utter  self- 
absorption  which  characterizes  the  sayings  of  those  who 
are  but  half  conscious  and  very  near  to  the  end. 

"Is  that  you,  Jeannik?"  she  whispered,  her  fingers 
creeping  lovingly  over  Gaidik' s  tawny  braids.  "Ah,  no! 
there  is  no  cap,  it  is  Mam'zelle  Gaidik  who  is  come  back 
to  us — our  own  little  Lady — they  did  say  she  was  married 
and  not  very  happy — but  it  can't  be  true — she's  too  good 
to  be  made  to  weep,  too — our  little  Mam'zelle  Gaidik — 
Her  trembling,  stiffened  fingers  still  stroked  the  kneeling 
Duchess's  wonderful  hair.  The  little  boy  had  ceased  to 
whimper,  soothed  and  lulled  by  the  low-murmured  words 
of  this  poor  old  creature,  whose  long,  patient,  unrewarded 
life  was  about  to  cease.  She  had  lived  there  through 
childhood  and  girlhood  and  womanhood,  had  Mere  Co- 
rentine, working  always  through  so  many  changes  of 
season,  bearing  her  burdens  with  humble  heroism,  and 
now  but  a  few  short  hours  intervened  between  so  much 
suffering  and  the  death  that  to  age  and  pain  is  a  release. 
With  wide-open,  unseeing  eyes  she  still  muttered: 

142 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

"Do  you  remember  the  day  of  my  wedding,  Mam'zelle 
Gaidik — Monsieur  le  Marquis  led  me  to  church — that  was 
your  grandfather — it  seems  but  yesterday — but  it's  true 
you  can't  remember;  it  was  our  little  Seigneur  who  led 
Jeannik  to  church — is  he  here  also,  M'sieu'  Loic?" 

"Yes,  I'm  here,  Mere  Corentine,"  Loic  said,  in  a 
low  voice,  drawing  nearer,  his  face  as  white  as  Jeannik's 
own  as  he  bent  over  the  bed. 

Life  was  going  out  rapidly  as  the  flame  sinks  in  a 
lamp  whose  oil  is  all  spent,  and  it  was  a  sad  sight  to 
witness,  this  last  struggle  of  the  strong,  vigorous  frame, 
the  surrender  of  that  powerful  will  that  had  warded  off 
weakness  and  death  so  bravely,  and  now  bent  all  sud- 
denly as  a  hardy  tree  will  bend  after  years  of  resistance 
to  wind  and  storm — bend  but  once  and  forever.  The 
faded  lips  moved  still,  but  the  restless  mind  was  taking 
a  different  turn.  "Last  night  I  saw  my  boys  again — I 
saw  them — they  were  shouting  and  singing  and  pouring 
wine  down  their  throats — their  father  came  in — my  hand- 
some Yan — he  looked  at  me — and  do  you  know  what 
looked  through  his  eyes — a  devil — a  devil  who  gibed  at 
me  and  mocked  me — the  devil  of  drink,  drink  that  de- 
stroys all  our  gars  and  makes  us,  the  innocent,  suffer  hell- 
pains — "  She  paused  once  more,  strange,  wild  thoughts 
hurtling  through  the  chaos  of  her  shattered  reason,  a 
violent  trembling  shaking  her  thin,  exhausted  frame. 

"Come,  Mere  Corentine,"  Gaidik  urged,  wiping  the 
cold  sweat  of  agony  from  her  old  friend's  forehead,  "look 
at  us  who  are  all  here  around  you.  There  are  no  devils, 
only  your  children  and  Loic  and  I,  Gaidik,  your  little 
Mam'zelle  Gaidik!" 

But  the  old  woman  drew  away  with  sudden  impatience 
from  her  touch. 

"No,  no!"  she  wailed.     "I  must  bring  my  boys  home 


THE   TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

— when  they  sober  up  we  shall  be  happy  again — some- 
thing tells  me  I  must  bring  them  home  now — it's  drink 
ruins  them — drink,  always  drink — they  are  good  boys, 
and  so  was  my  Yan — and  so  fine -looking  and  strong, 
but  drink  made  them  brutal  and  wicked — it  beckoned 
to  them,  and  they  went — beware  of  it — it  maddens  men 
— pray  on  your  knees  to  be  spared — pray,  pray — "  And 
with  amazing  strength  she  suddenly  raised  herself  up  in 
bed,  pointing  with  a  wide,  out-stretched  arm  directly  tow- 
ards Loic.  The  clear  rays  of  a  fitful  spirt  of  flame  from 
the  hearth  momentarily  illumined  the  boy's  delicate,  proud 
features,  throwing  them  into  bold  relief  like  an  ivory 
cameo  against  the  dark  background,  and  at  the  sight  the 
dying  woman  cried  out:  "Save  him!  Save  him!" 
Then  with  a  great  shriek,  as  if  she  had  seen  some  grim 
vision,  she  fell  heavily  back  in  Gaidik's  out  -  stretched 
arms. 

A  tearless  sob  caught  the  little  Duchess's  breath  as 
she  laid  the  quivering  form  on  the  pillows.  Perhaps  all 
the  silent  agony  through  which  she  was  herself  to  pass 
weighed  for  a  second  upon  her  at  that  moment,  and  she, 
the  brave  and  enduring,  shrank  and  quivered  as  though 
stricken  to  the  heart.  Passion,  sorrow,  impotent  efforts, 
wild  regret,  the  cruel  stripes  of  an  unmerited  scourge 
seemed  to  burn  through  the  floating  shadows  around 
her,  like  jeering  mockeries  of  her  brilliant  present,  and 
turning  from  the  motionless  form  on  the  bed  she  threw 
her  arms  around  Loic.  His  own  limbs  were  shaking, 
his  lips  were  colorless,  his  forehead  was  wet  with  cold 
perspiration,  and  he  stretched  out  his  hands  towards  her 
imploringly.  "Come  away,  Gaid,"  he  whispered.  "I 
can't  bear  to  look  at  her  eyes!" 

"Yes,"  she  whispered  back,  "I'm  coming!" 
Quickly    she    bent    over    Mere    Corentine,    took    the 

144 


THE    TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

poor,  hard-worked  hand  in  her  firm  young  grasp  once 
more,  felt  for  its  fluttering  pulse,  and  with  a  gentle  touch 
of  farewell  she  left  the  now  unconscious  woman  and 
poor,  terrified  Jeannik  in  the  care  of  Mere  Vaillant,  and 
drew  Loic  out  of  the  little  house  into  the  roar  of  the  surf 
and  the  wind. 

She  did  not  utter  a  word  as  they  struggled  up  the 
rain -lashed  path,  contenting  herself  with  pressing  her 
brother's  arm  closely  within  hers.  She  knew  by  in- 
stinct that  this  was  all  that  was  needed,  and  that  the 
thoroughly  unnerved  boy  understood  this  mute  sym- 
pathy ;  nor  did  either  of  them  attempt  to  speak  as  with 
a  common  accord  they  turned  away  from  the  village  and 
passed  on  to  a  narrow  pathway  across  the  heath  leading 
to  a  group  of  tall  menhirs  that  raised  their  giant  heads  at 
the  summit  of  a  particularly  wild  and  lofty  rampart  of 
cliffs. 

The  storm  had  indeed  done  its  work  thoroughly,  for 
it  is  a  solemn  fact  that  for  over  a  mile  and  a  half  inland 
the  wind -borne  froth  of  the  waves  lay  on  the  ground 
like  banks  of  ivory-tinted  snow,  and  as  Loic  and  Gaidik 
advanced  they  waded  through  this  soft,  clinging  mass 
up  to  their  very  hips.  The  tremendous  sea  itself  still 
came  rolling  in,  dashing  and  thundering  against  the 
falaises,  as  if  eager  to  engulf  the  whole  trembling  world, 
while  the  receding  billows,  when  they  swept  back  with  a 
hoarse  roar,  scooped  yawning  caverns  out  of  the  loose 
shingle  of  the  beaches. 

With  infinite  exertion  they  succeeded  in  doubling  the 
point — a  feat  which  none  but  Bretons  could  have  ac- 
complished under  such  circumstances — and  reached  the 
cruel  Baie  de  Gwesnoc'h,  which  just  then  presented  a 
spectacle  well  worthy  of  all  their  labors.  Beneath  the 
dull,  opaque  light  of  that  wild  morning  the  sacred  stones 


THE   TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

adopted  strange  and  terrifying  shapes,  like  a  troop  of 
petrified  monsters  eternally  mounting  guard  over  that 
virile  coast  of  Armorica,  for  the  most  part  built  up  of 
bold  promontories  daring  the  desperate  ocean. 

A  fierce  melancholy,  without  hope,  without  mercy, 
without  consolation  seemed  to  envelop  the  whole  deso- 
late spot,  and  yet,  sombre  though  it  was,  it  seemed  far 
more  beautiful  to  the  two  on- lookers  than  any  flowery 
and  sunlit  landscape  could  have  been.  A  curious  sense 
of  awe  fell  upon  them  as,  sheltered  behind  a  towering 
menhir,  they  witnessed  the  uproar  and  fury  that  swept 
the  waves  apart  in  dark,  gliddery  hollows,  and  then  piled 
them  up  again  in  huge  climbing  walls  that  strove  ever 
higher  and  higher  towards  their  lofty  hiding-place.  Their 
lips  were  bitter  with  salt,  their  cheeks  were  wet  with  the 
flying  foam,  but  these  few  moments,  spent  face  to  face 
with  the  grandeur  of  that  scene,  brought  them  just  the 
revivifying  tonic  they  needed,  and  they  felt  strangely 
comforted  as  they  looked  upon  the  wrath  of  the  ocean, 
familiar  to  their  eyes  from  earliest  babyhood,  and  which 
had  lent  to  both  their  natures  something  of  its  depth 
and  force  to  do  and  to  endure. 

For  half  an  hour  longer  they  stood  there,  listening  to 
the  clamor  of  sea  and  sky,  and  then,  aided  this  time  by  the 
grand  sweeps  of  the  wind,  ran  home  hand-in-hand  as  they 
had  done  so  many  times  before  on  similar  days  of  storm. 

All  the  live-long  day  the  storm  continued  to  rage  piti- 
lessly, and  not  by  word  or  glance  did  Gaidik  allude  to 
the  distressing  scene  which  had  taken  place  that  morn- 
ing at  Mere  Corentine's  death -bed.  It  was  character- 
istic of  her  love  for  Loic  to  wait  for  him  to  speak  first, 
if  he  so  wished  to  do,  and  if,  as  she  feared,  he  had  been 
painfully  impressed  by  the  weirdness  and  spiritual  horror 
of  those  last  moments. 

146 


MERE  VAILLANT 

The  village  sick-nurse 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

Late  at  night,  however,  when  everybody  had  retired, 
even  Madame  de  Kergoat — who,  moved  suddenly  to  un- 
explainable  amiability,  had  prolonged  the  evening  with 
music  and  a  regular  feu-roulant  of  witty  and  fascinat- 
ing chatter — the  boy  crept,  as  in  the  old  days,  to  his 
sister's  rooms,  and  knocked  softly  at  the  door. 

Whenever  Gaidik  had  visited  Kergoat  since  her  mar- 
riage, she  had  insisted  upon  occupying  her  old  suite  in- 
stead of  accepting  her  mother's  offer  of  a  gorgeous  "state 
apartment"  a  floor  below.  This  suite  had  always  been 
essentially  hers,  selected  and  arranged  by  herself,  and 
none  would  have  pleased  her  as  well,  for  attached  to  it 
was  a  sort  of  observatory,  a  round  turret-chamber  whose 
six  windows  looked  straight  down  upon  the  sea,  which 
to-night  seethed  and  boiled  in  dense  blackness  like  a 
gigantic  witch's  caldron.  Above  it,  clear  to  the  height 
of  her  tower,  a  white  powder  of  scattered  foam  and  spin- 
drift, as  dense  and  thick  as  a  snow  tourmente  in  the  Alps, 
whirled  and  danced  amid  strange,  deep  noises,  forming 
a  woolly,  impenetrable  shroud  which  muffled  the  distant 
red  gleam  of  the  light-house,  and  clung  in  broad,  shin- 
ing patches  against  the  heavy  glass  of  the  oriel  case- 
ments. 

This  was  Gaidik' s  favorite  retreat.  Tapestried  through- 
out with  sombre  old  Gobelins,  it  looked  as  if  it  held  the 
secrets  of  a  thousand  centuries,  and  from  its  embossed 
and  emblazoned  ceiling  hung  antique  bronze  lamps, 
shedding  a  clear,  subdued  light  upon  the  stiff,  richly 
carved  old  furniture,  cushioned  with  equally  ancient  gold 
and  silver  brocades.  The  whole  place  was  filled  just 
then  with  rosy  shadows,  heavy  with  the  perfume  of 
gardenias  and  violets — of  which  there  were  four  or  five 
bowlfuls  on  the  tables  and  in  the  embrasures — and 
aromatized  by  the  fragrance  of  the  pine-cones  and  cedar 

147 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

logs  burning  on  the  wide  hearth  of  the  adjoining  bed- 
room. 

Silently  Gaidik  drew  Loic  down  upon  a  deep  arm-chair 
wide  enough  and  to  spare  for  both  of  them  together. 

"I've  come  here  to  be  scolded  and  comforted,"  the 
boy  said,  simply,  glancing  up  at  her  with  eyes  filled  with 
pensiveness  and  laughter — "here  in  your  hobgoblin  room, 
my  good  Fairy.  I  have  come  because  I  feel  awfully  silly." 

"Hobgoblin  room!  No,  Loic  Ab-Vor,  my  watch- 
tower!  See,  isn't  this  place  the  eighth  wonder  of  the 
world,  suspended  above  the  abyss  like  a  gull's  nest,  sur- 
rounded with  foam  as  if  the  waves  really  passed  over 
it,  and  yet  so  calm  and  cosey  ?" 

"I  think  the  eighth  wonder  of  the  world — the  greatest 
of  all — is  here  beside  me,"  Loic  interrupted,  nestling 
caressingly  against  her,  "for  just  being  with  you  has 
already  put  all  bothersome  ideas  out  of  my  head,  Gaid." 

She  looked  at  him,  and  her  heart  quickened  with  ap- 
prehension, for  now  she  knew  that  the  strange  words  of 
Mere  Corentine,  and  perchance  some  other  dark  things 
as  yet  unknown  to  her,  were  rankling  in  the  boy's  mind. 

She  bent  forward,  and  ever,  ever  so  softly  touched  his 
bright  hair  with  her  lips.  "And  now,  sweetheart,"  she 
whispered,  coaxingly,  "tell  me  what  is  troubling  you, 
because  there  are  very  few  sorrows  great  or  big  that  can- 
not be  spirited  away  by  being  shared  with  somebody  one 
loves." 

Loic  was  tracing  patterns  with  the  tips  of  his  patent- 
leather  pumps  on  the  carpet,  while  his  sister  patiently 
waited  for  him  to  speak. 

"Well,  this  being  so,"  he  said,  with  sudden  decision, 
"I  might  as  well  tell  you  that  the  plot  has  been  thicken- 
ing here,  Gaid.  Many's  the  time  I  have  laughed  on 
the  wrong  side  of  my  mouth.  Yesterday  morning  there 

148 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

was  a  scene — only  one  of  a  lot — and  I  got  mad.  Oh,  you 
don't  know  how  mad  I  got!  Also,  that  moment  at 
Mere  Corentine's  this  morning  upset  me,  although  I'm 
an  ass  to  confess  it,  but  it  seemed  then  that  something 
horrible,  like  a  bad  spell,  was  being  cast  upon  me.  I 
don't  just  know  how  to  explain  it,  but  that's  how  it  felt." 

"Good  Heavens!"  thought  Gaidik,  frightened  in  good 
earnest.  She  did  not  stir,  though  a  little  cold  shiver 
crept  over  her  from  head  to  foot,  and  it  was  quite  calmly 
that  she  replied: 

"How  in  the  world  can  you,  my  own  brave,  plucky 
little  Fr£rot,  let  yourself  be  influenced  by  a  poor  old 
woman's  dying  vagaries  ?  Surely  you  cannot  attach  any 
importance  to  what  she  said  or  did!  You,  a  true-born 
Kergoat,  who  does  not  know  what  fear  is!"  She  realized 
that  presently  she  would  have  to  take  in  hand  and  deal 
separately  with  all  her  darling's  difficulties,  but  she  must 
gain  time  and  draw  them  from  him  one  by  one — no  very 
easy  task  in  itself — so  just  at  the  outset  the  complete 
group  must  be  banished  from  her  mind. 

Outside  the  night  had  become,  if  possible,  darker  and 
wilder  yet.  The  windows  were  quite  blinded  with  that 
curious  imitation  of  snow  blown  brutally  against  them 
by  a  furious  force  which  seemed  to  demand  instant  ad- 
mittance; and  suddenly  Gaidik  felt  as  though  the  very 
tempest  she  loved  was  a  malignant  being  fighting  against 
her  like  a  senseless  lunatic,  because,  for  the  first  time, 
she  saw  the  future  drearily  lighted  by  a  past  that  itself 
seemed  a  grim  menace.  Just  then  there  was  a  lull  in 
the  crazy  symphony  of  the  wind  and  sea,  and  in  the 
momentary,  uncanny  stillness  she  heard  Loic  saying: 

"Afraid;  no,  not  afraid,  but  puzzled,  Gaid,  and — well — 
miserable!"  His  voice  had  become  slightly  unsteady  and 
his  eyes  were  cast  down. 

149 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

With  a  sense  of  helplessness  bewildering  in  its  intensity, 
she  let  herself  slip  at  his  feet,  and,  flinging  her  arms  around 
him,  said,  piteously: 

"Oh,  my  poor  little  darling!  What  have  they  done 
to  you  to  change  you  so?  Come,  Loic,"  she  continued, 
raising  herself  a  little  and  speaking  with  a  new  author- 
ity, "pull  yourself  together  and  tell  me  all — you  under- 
stand— all  that  has  happened  here  lately,  because  I  must 
know,  and  that  at  once!" 

Loic  looked  down  at  the  little  kneeling  figure  outlined 
in  graceful  folds  of  green  crape,  with  its  two  thick,  long 
braids  of  rippling  hair  tumbling  to  the  very  floor,  and 
wondered;  for  suddenly  all  Gaidik's  reserve  had  been 
swept  away  as  if  by  a  wet  sponge  from  a  slate,  and  her 
very  soul  was  sparkling  out  of  her  eyes. 

"For  days  and  nights,  for  weeks  and  months,  during 
all  the  time  of  our  separation,  I  have  thought  only  of 
you!"  she  went  on.  "Don't  you  see  that  you  are  all  I 
have  ever  loved  since  papa's  death,  all  I  love  now?  But 
what  is  the  use  of  telling  you,  you  know  it,  and  now — 
oh,  my  poor  little  Loic — I  find  that  all  my  dreads  and 
anxieties  were  still  far  short  of  the  reality!"  She  broke 
off  suddenly,  ashamed  of  having  let  herself  be  so  carried 
away,  for  even  with  him  she  had  always  kept  herself 
severely  in  hand,  since  of  all  moral  qualities  she  was  dis- 
posed to  put  self-control  the  first. 

Loic  turned  his  face  away;  his  lips  were  twitching 
ominously,  and  he  did  not  want  her  to  notice  it.  "  I'm 
sorry  if  I  have  alarmed  you,  Gaid,"  he  said  at  last, 
drearily,  his  young  face  curiously  aged  and  drawn,  "but 
it's  been  a  bit  lonely  without  you,  and  then,  too,  I  felt 
myself  getting  bad,  not  merely  full  of  the  devil,  as  I 
used  to  be  when  you  were  here,  but  real  downright  ugly 
and  ready  for  anything."  The  grip  of  his  hand  tightened 


THE    TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

unconsciously  on  Gaidik's,  until  the  gems  of  her  rings 
hurt  her,  yet  she  hardly  heeded  it,  for  all  her  powers  of 
feeling  were  concentrated  upon  him. 

"  Don't  say  such  things,  Loic,"  she  said,  more  firmly. 
"You  have  no  right  even  to  think  them.  You  are  my 
own  brave  boy,  and  you  are  merely  yielding  to  a  bit  of 
nervousness  which  I  do  not  like  to  see  in  you,  but  which 
I  can  understand,  so  let  us  talk  the  matter  over  calmly, 
if  possible,  and  see  what  is  best  to  be  done.  Now,  to 
begin  with,  please  be  more  explicit.  What  is  the  cause 
of  all  these  scenes,  of  all  this  discouragement,  so  little  in 
accordance  with  your  whole  nature?" 

Loic  had  faced  round  in  the  big  chair,  and  sat  for  a 
moment  in  silence.  His  lips  were  quite  steady  now,  but 
his  left  eyebrow  kept  twitching  in  a  singular  manner. 

"I  am  not  brave,  Gaidik!"  he  cried,  in  sudden  exas- 
peration— "not  brave  worth  a  cent — for  I  dread  I  don't 
know  what  when  she  hits  me;  not  the  pain,  of  course — 
that's  ridiculous — but  what  I  may  be  tempted  to  do. 
And  yet  I  am  awfully  fond  of  her,  for  she  can  be  ever  so 
winning,  and  she's  very  good  to  me  most  of  the  time — 
does  almost  anything  I  ask  when  I  take  the  trouble  to 
coax  her  a  bit.  I  feel  a  brute,  a  bully,  and  a  coward — 
yes,  a  coward,"  he  repeated,  stamping  his  foot,  "or 
sometimes  worse — a  real,  downright  bad  'un!  The  truth 
is,  I  don't  know  half  the  time  where  I'm  at." 

He  writhed  in  a  sort  of  dumb,  twisted  agony,  and 
Gaidik  was  one  throb  of  pity  for  him. 

"But,  Loic,"  she  pleaded,  "surely  you  must  be  exag- 
gerating; I  know  Mamma  is  difficult,  capricious,  discon- 
certing, but  what  is  it  that  has  broken  you  up  like  that? 
There  certainly  is  something  you  don't  say." 

Loic  gave  a  sudden  short  crack  of  laughter,  which 
filled  his  sister  with  absolute  terror. 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

"Yes,  there  is!"  he  cried,  with  a  wild,  scared  look. 
"One  of  these  days  when  she  is  really  angry  she  will 
lodge  me  in  Mettray — she's  sworn  it — so  there!" 

Gaidik  gave  one  little  gasp,  licked  her  lips  with  the 
tip  of  her  tongue,  and  then  sprang  to  her  feet. 

"Mettray  —  the  reformatory  for  young  criminals!" 
she  exclaimed,  her  voice  trembling  with  a  fury  such  as 
she  had  never  experienced.  "She  has  threatened  you 
with  Mettray  ?  Is  she  stark,  staring  mad  ?  As  God  is 
above  us,  if  she  ever  dares  to  do  that  again  she'll  have 
me  to  deal  with,  and  that  won't  be  a  pleasing  job  for 
her  to  tackle!" 

She  drew  in  a  deep,  unsteady  breath  through  set  teeth, 
there  was  an  unpleasantly  strained  ring  in  her  low-pitched 
voice,  while  in  her  dark -gray  eyes  sprang  a  positively 
cruel  glitter. 

"Now,"  she  said,  harshly,  grasping  the  edge  of  a 
table  with  one  slim  hand,  "you  will  kindly  tell  me  when 
and  how  your  Mother" — she  no  longer  said  "Mamma" — 
"has  used  this  abominable  threat  to  you?" 

Loic,  too,  rose  and  came  towards  her.  Although 
breathing,  also,  somewhat  hurriedly,  he  had  apparently 
recovered  something  of  his  customary  calmness. 

"Frequently,"  he  answered,  steadily  enough — "that  is, 
whenever  she  was  very  angry;  but  of  late  she  has  spoken 
of  it  when  she  was  not  angry,  which  makes  me  think 
that  she  is  really  in  earnest  about  it.  Otherwise  I  would 
never  have  mentioned  it  to  you.  You  know,  Gaid,  that 
I  don't  like  to  complain!" 

Gaidik  agreed  in  an  unintelligible  monosyllable.  She 
was  still  standing  by  the  table  thinking,  and  the  subject 
of  her  meditations  was  so  grave  that  she  did  not  even 
try  to  fill  up  the  awkward  silence  which  followed,  a  silence 
all  the  deeper  for  those  forces  of  the  unchained  dark 

152 


THE   TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

that  smote  and  heaved  like  solid  things  against  the 
granite  walls.  In  her  heart  she  was  wondering  whether, 
in  speaking  to  the  son,  she  should  be  weakly  scrupulous 
and  attempt  to  gloss  over  the  ignominy  of  the  mother's 
conduct,  as  well  as  the  very  real  danger  of  the  situation, 
or  be  boldly  and  unconventionally  frank,  and  treat  him 
as  one  to  whom  one  could  tell  the  truth  under  any  and 
every  circumstance. 

Well  did  she  know  of  the  dreadful  reformatory  of 
Mettray,  where  France  lodges  the  recalcitrant  children  of 
the  rich.  She  knew  how  parents,  tired  of  the  mischievous 
freaks  of  their  spoiled  offspring,  often  confine  them  there, 
not  always  because  they  have  committed  any  crimes,  or 
even  grave  sins,  but  simply  because,  when  beginning  to 
"feel  their  oats,"  they  have  shown  themselves  rebellious 
to  a  parental  authority  exercised  too  late. 

A  year  or  so  after  her  marriage,  happening  to  be  visit- 
ing some  friends  whose  chateau  was  but  a  few  miles 
distant  from  the  great  Colonie  -  Penitentiaire,  she  had 
driven  there  with  her  hosts,  and  had  been  shown  over 
the  huge  establishment,  grimly  intrenched  behind  un- 
scalable stone  walls.  How  well  she  remembered  the 
beauty  of  that  summer  day,  with  the  golden  sunlight 
falling  across  the  green  grass  of  the  model  farm  through 
the  interlaced  boughs  of  long  avenues  of  wych-elms  and 
lindens,  the  brilliancy  of  the  great  flower-beds  in  the 
Governor's  garden  contrasting  so  pathetically  with  the 
wretched  lot  of  those  long  files  of  boys  toiling  under  the 
harsh  eyes  of  their  gardes  -  chiourmes !  Labor  in  the 
sweat  of  the  brow  was,  she  knew  well,  the  least  painful 
iportion  of  what  those  delicately  reared  lads  had  to  en- 
dure. The  coarse  uniform,  the  coarse  prison  food  from 
twhich  their  pet  terriers  would  probably  have  turned 
.away  in  the  days  when  they  themselves  were  still  the 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

pampered  darlings  of  wealthy  families,  the  long  nights 
of  misery  in  the  chambre'e,  with  its  whitewashed  walls, 
its  barred  casements,  where  one  little  iron  bedstead, 
thin -matt  ressed  and  hard-pillowed,  almost  touched  its 
fellow  to  right  and  left — all  this  the  inmates  of  Mettray 
could  endure,  but  the  frightful  humiliation,  the  eternal 
degradation  of  such  a  sojourn,  the  fell  companionship 
which  lashed  the  utterly  guiltless  ones  side  by  side  with 
the  really  vicious  and  depraved,  what  of  that?  Also 
there  were  to  be  seen  young  offenders  committed  to  the 
tender  mercies  of  Mettray  for  a  few  months,  as  a  whole- 
some warning,  by  their  parents  or  guardians,  and  who 
were  immediately  subjected  to  solitary  confinement, 
locked  up  in  their  cells  at  night  like  murderers  and 
thieves,  made  to  eat  their  meals  alone,  and  conducted 
by  armed  guards  to  the  class  and  lecture  rooms  with 
which  this  jail  is  munificently  provided,  wearing  black 
masks  over  their  poor  little  terrified  faces,  in  order  to 
prevent  their  features  from  being  recognized  later  on  by 
their  mates.  She  had  seen  with  her  own  eyes  a  young 
Aristocrat  brought  before  the  Governor,  handcuffed  be- 
tween two  gendarmes,  because  he  had,  after  three  months 
of  this  torture,  managed  to  make  good  his  escape.  Hunted 
throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  France,  the  boy  had 
been  run  to  earth  by  the  police  and  brought  back  to 
feast  on  a  diet  of  bread  and  water  in  a  dark  cell,  as  first 
punishment  for  his  attempt  to  get  away.  With  squared 
shoulders  the  wretched  lad  had  stood  before  the  all- 
powerful  official,  slender,  handsome,  saying  nothing  in 
his  own  defence,  striving  to  give  no  sign  of  the  bitter  an- 
guish he  felt,  his  big,  blue  eyes  dry  and  defiant,  his  white 
lips  firmly  compressed  to  stifle  the  sobs  that  were  swell- 
ing in  his  throat  at  the  prospect  which  lay  before  him  of 
many  further  months  of  insult,  torment,  and  shame.  He 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

knew  that  once  his  ''punishment"  was  over  he  would  be 
sent  to  the  farm,  where  he  would  work  cheek  by  jowl 
with  all  sorts  of  little  miscreants,  and  in  spite  of  his 
efforts  his  heart  was  evidently  bursting  within  him  with 
an  agony  of  desperation  and  revolt.  Clearly  he  cared  lit- 
tle what  happened  next,  probably  heard  not  at  all  the 
pompous  admonition  of  the  verbose  Governor  of  this  vast, 
stone -jawed  trap  which  again  held  him  in  its  power. 

The  scene  flashed  through  Gaidik's  mind  as  she  stood 
gazing  vacantly  at  Loic ;  even  the  words  of  the  Governor, 
when  she  had  pleaded  for  mercy  and  tried  to  intercede 
in  the  young  Noble's  behalf,  still  rang  in  her  ears. 

"Mercy  would  be  quite  out  of  place,  Madame  la 
Duchesse,"  the  great  man  had  pronounced,  stroking  his 
iron -gray  mustache;  "we  could  never  master  our  prison- 
ers if  in  such  an  instance  an  example  was  not  made." 

Merciful  God!  was  she  ever  to  see  her  beloved  little 
Loic  in  such  a  plight  ?  And  at  the  thought  beads  of  cold 
perspiration  gathered  on  her  forehead,  paralyzing  dread 
held  her  mute.  Could  such  things  be?  What!  Only 
because  he  was  headstrong  and  had  been  over-indulged! 

She  ground  her  heel  into  the  carpet  and  braced  herself 
for  battle.  The  thoughts  that  were  passing  within  her 
were  little  suspected  by  Loic — thoughts  of  the  immediate 
steps  she  would  take  to  save  him  from  such  a  doom,  of 
the  interview  she  would  have  with  her  Mother,  of  the 
terrible  scene  that  would,  without  a  doubt,  take  place 
between  them. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do,  Gaid?"  Loic  said,  looking 
at  her  in  a  searching,  anxious  way. 

"I  cannot  say  just  now,"  she  answered,  slowly  and 
deliberately,  "because  I  do  not  quite  know  myself,  yet — 
and — because — it  is  too  serious  a  case  to  be  decided  upon 
in  a  hurry.  But  I  can  promise  you,  Loic,  that  you  will 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

not  be  menaced  again,  if  I  can  help  it  in  any  way — 
whatever  that  way  may  lead  to.  Of  that,  rest  assured. 
I  cannot  believe  that  your  Mother  really  meant  what 
she  said ;  but  even  if  she  did  not,  she  has  done  a  wrong 
and  a  dangerous  thing,  and  if  necessary  I  will  appeal  to 
Uncle  Rene'  in  order  to  make  her  change  her  attitude  tow- 
ards you." 

Loic  straightened  himself  up  with  a  certain  briskness 
which  those  who  have  watched  the  reprieve  of  a  convict 
know  well;  he  carefully  buttoned  his  jacket,  pulled  it 
down  in  front,  and  mechanically  tapped  his  chest  where 
there  were  wrinkles  in  the  cloth.  Evidently  there  was 
nothing  more  to  be  said  on  the  subject,  since  Gaidik  had 
promised.  Pleasurably  surprised  by  this  confident  air, 
his  sister,  crossing  the  room,  sat  down  in  a  deep  win- 
dow-seat, looking  proudly  at  the  brave  little  soldier  be- 
fore her. 

"When  are  you  to  join  the  Bordaf'  she  asked,  sud- 
denly, but  with  a  gravity  of  tone  which  she  had  as  yet 
never  displayed  towards  him.  "You  see,  it  would  be 
much  better  for  you,  Loic,  to  be  away  from  here;  I  do 
not  like  the  present  state  of  affairs  at  all — it  is  no  use  for 
me  to  try  and  disguise  the  fact  from  you — and  that  would 
cut  it  short." 

For  an  instant  Loic  did  not  reply;  he  sat  down  beside 
Gaidik,  stretched  his  legs  out  with  a  jerk,  and  gazed  in- 
tently at  the  foam-bespattered  window-panes,  reflecting 
like  a  dark  mirror  the  rosy  glow  of  the  lamps  and  the 
exquisitely  mediaeval  room. 

"I've  still  got  two  years  to  wait — if  I  ever  join  it," 
he  pronounced  at  last,  doubtfully. 

"If?"  Gaidik  retorted,  in  astonishment.  "Time  has 
come  for  you  to  look  seriously  at  the  future,  Loic.  If 
you  are  going  to  enter  the  navy — which  I  do  not  doubt 

156  * 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

you  are  desirous  to  do — it  is  time  you  should  begin  to 
work  in  earnest.  If  not,  you  should  work  just  as  hard 
in  order  to  prepare  yourself  for  your  college  course." 

Loic  moved  uneasily  and  drummed  his  fingers  impa- 
tiently upon  the  window-sill ;  once  or  twice  his  quick  eyes 
rested  on  his  sister's  face,  surprised  at  her  determined 
tone.  It  seemed  to  him  as  if  he  had  just  made  a  puz- 
zling discovery,  as  if  the  disparity  in  their  years  had  sud- 
denly manifested  itself.  Although  it  conveyed  no  sense 
of  discomfort  or  estrangement,  there  was,  nevertheless, 
in  her  expression  a  quiet  suggestion  of  experience  and 
authority  entirely  new  and  startling  to  him. 

At  length  he  spoke  with  a  faint  undertone  of  humor  in 
his  voice. 

"That  question  was  just  what  made  Mamma  so  angry 
yesterday,"  he  said.  "She  bullyragged  me  about  that 
very  thing,  and,  Lord!  wasn't  she  in  a  wax!  Why,  she 
actually  shook  me  till  my  teeth  rattled." 

Gaidik  made  no  reply  for  some  minutes.  To  say  that 
she  was  shocked  and  indignant  would  be  but  a  poor  de- 
scription of  her  feelings.  Fully  did  she  realize  the  great- 
ness of  the  task  she  had  sworn  to  accomplish,  for  none 
better  than  she  knew  the  wayward,  changeful,  incom- 
prehensible woman  she  would  have  to  deal  with,  a  woman 
whose  moods  varied  like  the  sun  and  shade  of  an  April 
day,  and  whose  sudden  fits  of  remorse  and  love  for  her 
son  were  as  passionate  as  her  vanity  and  amazing  egotism 
were  cold.  Also  the  poor  girl  could  not  but  recognize 
that,  keen  of  vision  as  she  herself  was,  and  difficult  to 
satisfy  in  anything  that  savored  of  evasion,  she  would 
probably  be  baffled  by  some  unscrupulous  trick  or  other, 
and  so  there  came  to  her  a  dread  beside  which  all  anx- 
ieties she  had  ever  felt  for  Loic  seemed  pale  and  color- 
less. 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

Respecting  her  silence,  Loic  was  also  mute,  gazing  ab- 
sently before  him,  but  suddenly  they  both  started,  for 
above  the  furious  booming  of  the  waves  and  the  shrill 
whistling  of  the  wind  the  sound  of  the  great  castle  clock 
solemnly  announcing  midnight  brought  to  them  a  rush 
of  countless  memories,  but  especially  of  that  far-away 
night  when  they  had  fallen  asleep  in  each  other's  arms 
on  the  balcony  near  by. 

"Do  you  remember?"  Loic  whispered,  with  an  irrepres- 
sible twinkle  in  his  eye.  "What  if  we  should  bring  about 
another  catastrophe  like  that,  by  this  secret  meeting?" 

Gaidik  could  not  help  smiling  in  spite  of  her  heart- 
breaking thoughts.  "The  nuisance,"  she  sagely  remark- 
ed, "of  catastrophes  happening  late  at  night  is  that 
they're  very  apt  to  lap  over  into  the  early  morn ;  indeed, 
the  grudge  I  usually  bear  the  past  is  that  its  evils  de- 
prive the  future  of  nothing.  Meanwhile  let's  save  the 
present,  at  least,  by  calling  a  truce  to  darksome  repinings 
and  by  seeking  our  respective  beds — though  the  wise 
men  of  modern  times  do  insist  upon  it  that  the  present 
doesn't  exist,  being  but  an  infinitesimal  interval  between 
two  infinities  moving  across  the  face  of  Eternity.  And 
now,  if  you  desire  a  less  abstruse  subject  for  meditation 
before  sleep,  remember,  Frerot,  that  drifting  is  not  satis- 
factory work,  and  that  energy  and  a  good  purpose,  bravely 
held  to,  accomplish  great  things  in  spite  of  the  wise  men's 
brilliant  aphorisms." 

Loic  rose  and  stood  for  a  few  seconds  looking  into  his 
sister's  eyes.  "I'll  do  whatever  you  wish  me  to  do," 
he  said,  in  a  slightly  altered  voice,  "because  you  are  the 
dearest  and  best  and  most  loyal  sister  a  boy  ever  had," 
and  he  threw  his  arms  almost  roughly  about  her  neck. 


IX 

Great  Eblis  said  to  his  dark  Emirs 

As  doom  he  gave  at  Jehannum  gate: 
"  I  have  mingled  the  seed  of  Adam's  breed 

And  roiled  the  current  of  mortal  fate. 

"  The  rose  shall  joy  in  her  blossoms  blown, 
The  lily  laugh  for  her  buds  new-born, 

And  all  things  else  that  have  life  shall  own 
The  tie  of  blood  to  the  latest  morn. 

"  The  fox  and  jackal  that  debt  shall  pay, 

And  the  wolf,  to  those  of  her  own  gray  skin, 

But  the  son  of  man  to  the  latest  day 

Shall  seek  with  tears  for  his  kith  and  kin. 

' '  Brother  in  brother  with  vain  surmise 

Shall  strive  the  thoughts  of  his  heart  to  see, 

And  the  child  shall  search  in  its  mother's  eyes 
And  find  the  soul  of  an  enemy  " 

Then  they  cried  aloud  with  one  accord 

As  they  bowed  themselves  to  the  iron  floor 

Of  the  Gate  of  Doom,  "  Thus  shall  stand,  Dread  Lord, 
Thy  throne,  henceforth  and  f orevermore !" 

M.M. 

NEXT  morning,  before  even  Loic  was  astir,  the  silence 
of  the  stable-yard  was  broken  by  the  sharp,  light  foot- 
step of  Gaidik's  favorite  hunter.  The  storm  had  died 
away  with  all  the  suddenness  of  its  advent,  and  it  was 
a  mellow,  delightful  world  upon  which  Gaidik  gazed. 
The  air  was  perfumed  with  the  damp  scent  of  newly 
fallen  leaves,  and  many  more  in  delicate  tints  of  amber 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

and  ruby  were  gently  swaying  in  the  breeze  upon  the 
sun -bathed  boughs. 

Quickly  she  left  behind  her  the  great  castle,  where  not 
a  blind  was  as  yet  raised,  and  made  her  way  towards  a 
vast,  sweeping  moorland,  whereon  heather,  gorse,  and 
whin  held  united  sway,  bordered  towards  the  south  by  a 
dusky  pine  forest,  whose  paths  were  beset  with  deep 
mosses  and  thick  fern-brakes. 

The  difficulties  of  the  future  weighed  heavily  upon  her, 
and  she  hoped  that  the  keen,  resinous  air,  the  fragrant 
dusk,  the  sense  of  absolute  isolation  and  seclusion  she 
would  find  in  those  woods  would  brace  and  tonicize  her 
thoughts,  so  she  as  speedily  as  possible  turned  her  horse's 
head  into  a  level  avenue  overhung  with  a  thick  inter- 
lacement of  branches,  upon  every  needle  of  which  a  pris- 
matic dew-drop  sparkled. 

She  rode  far  and  fast,  but  at  last  she  slackened  her 
speed  and  looked  about  her  with  renewed  courage  and 
hope.  Her  calm  was  restored,  her  deep-set  eyes  had  lost 
their  strained  expression,  and  she  had,  as  she  had  an- 
ticipated, entirely  recovered  the  attitude  of  one  strong 
with  that  enduring  strength  which  is  completely  inde- 
pendent of  human  sympathies.  It  was  well  for  her  that 
she  was  so,  since  life  was  dealing  somewhat  harshly  with 
her  just  then,  not  only  with  regard  to  her  loveless  mar- 
riage, but  in  many  other  ways  besides;  but  as  she  walked 
her  hunter  along  a  narrow,  grass  -  cushioned  path,  her 
mind  was  busy  only  with  plans  concerning  Loic,  and  her 
heart  warmed  with  tenderness  and  pity  for  him  alone. 

Unfortunately,  Madame  de  Kergoat,  who,  for  reasons 
best  known  to  herself,  did  not  feel  entirely  satisfied  with 
the  present  state  of  affairs,  and  was  anxious  about  the 
turn  they  might  now  take,  had  bethought  herself  of  riding 
to  meet  her  daughter,  and  was  even  then  advancing 

160 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

towards  her.  Had  Gaidik  seen  her  in  time  she  would 
unhesitatingly  have  turned  into  the  thicket  on  the  chance 
of  avoiding  her;  but  perceiving,  with  a  sudden  and  char- 
acteristic narrowing  of  the  eyes  and  sharp  set  of  the 
mouth,  that  she  had  already  been  detected,  she  rode  on 
to  the  inevitable  encounter  which  she  had  hoped  to  se- 
cure under  different  circumstances. 

"  What  on  earth  made  you  run  away  like  this  at  dawn  ?" 
the  Marquise  asked,  ranging  alongside  and  bestowing 
upon  her  daughter  a  sardonic  little  smile  boding  no 
good. 

"A  desire  for  peace  and  fresh  air,"  Gaidik  replied,  quiet- 
ly, in  her  direct,  almost  abrupt  fashion. 

"And  are  not  fresh  air  and  peace  to  "be  had  at  Ker- 
goat?" 

"Not  always  combined." 

Madame  de  Kergoat  seemed  in  no  manner  surprised 
at  the  brevity  of  the  answer,  but  her  smile  became  tinged 
with  a  slight  embarrassment. 

"You  are  not  in  your  usual  cheery  mood?"  she  sug- 
gested, imprudently,  in  spite  of  her  sincere  desire  to  avoid 
any  sort  of  explanation  with  this  uncomfortable  daughter 
of  hers. 

They  were  now  riding  on  the  margin  of  a  small  lake 
carpeted  with  delicious  aquatic  blooms,  each  in  her  in- 
dividual and  characteristic  way.  Gaidik,  with  a  marked 
ease  and  assurance  of  attitude,  her  mother  with  even 
greater  grace,  but  not  with  the  same  astonishingly  firm 
seat. 

Gaidik  glanced  over  her  shoulder  before  replying. 
They  were  still  a  long  way  from  the  castle.  Then  she 
said,  in  the  same  even  voice,  "No,  and  it  is  because  I 
am  not  at  all  satisfied  about  Loic." 

"Gaidik!"  Madame  de  Kergoat  exclaimed,  her  eyes 

161 


THE    TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

acquiring  instantly  their  harshest  and  most  metallic  look; 
"this  sort  of  thing  won't  do!" 

"What  sort  of  thing?" 

"I  mean  that  I  seriously  recommend  you  not  to  mix 
yourself  up  too  much  with  Loic  and  with  my  manage- 
ment of  him!" 

Gaidik's  calm  face  became  fixed  and  rigid;  she  turned 
completely  round  towards  her  mother. 

"Why  not,  if  you  please?"  she  asked,  coldly. 

"Because  you  might  do  more  harm  than  you  think, 
besides  which  it  is  no  business  of  yours!" 

"Look  here,  Mamma!"  said  Gaidik,  with  an  extraor- 
dinary ring  of  decision  in  her  voice.  "  If  you  think  that 
I  am  going  to  stand  by,  with  my  hands  in  my  pockets, 
and  watch  Loic's  life  made  as  wretched  as  my  own,  you 
are  entirely  mistaken!" 

"  In  what  way  has  your  life  been  made  wretched  ?  You 
will  find  it  difficult  to  bring  any  one  to  believe  that  to 
become  at  fifteen  an  immensely  wealthy  Duchess  by  win- 
ning the  affections  of  a  singularly  handsome  and  dis- 
tinguished man  is  a  very  great  misfortune." 

Gaidik  felt  that  she  was  getting  no  further  on.  It 
would  be  folly  to  lose  her  temper  at  this  juncture,  worse 
than  folly,  indeed,  with  such  an  adversary,  so  she  brought 
her  hunter  by  an  almost  imperceptible  turn  of  the  wrist 
closer  to  her  mother's  horse,  until  they  nearly  touched, 
and  remarked,  indifferently: 

"I  suppose  it  would  be  no  use  telling  you  my  reasons 
for  considering  both  those  pieces  of  luck  in  the  light  of 
a  misfortune,  since  you  would  not  be  likely  to  under- 
stand me.  Moreover,  it  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  very 
serious  and  urgent  matter  in  hand." 

A  stile  was  barring  their  way,  and,  without  troubling  to 
unfasten  its  latch  with  crop  or  hand,  they  leaped  it,  still 

162 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

side  by  side  as  if  scarcely  conscious  of  the  act;  but  when 
they  had  again  slightly  reined  in  their  horses,  Genevieve 
de  Kergoat  squared  herself  determinedly  in  her  saddle, 
as  if  in  obedience  to  the  sound  of  trumpets  summoning 
her  to  do  battle. 

"I  do  not  desire  to  discuss  the  matter  in  hand!"  she 
said,  shortly  and  haughtily. 

Before  replying,  Gaidik  looked  speculatively  at  her, 

"But  I  do,"  she  said,  with  inexorable  persistence. 

"And  why?     Has  Loic  been  complaining?" 

Gaidik  took  a  tiny  case  from  her  saddle-pocket,  selected 
a  cigarette,  and,  slipping  the  reins  for  a  moment  over  her 
left  wrist,  lit  it  with  the  quick  deftness  of  long  habit  by 
means  of  a  Russian  wick-match-case;  while  her  com- 
panion watched  her  every  movement  with  growing  ir- 
ritation. 

"  He  has  not  complained,  as  you  might  very  well  guess, 
if  you  knew  him  better,  but  he  has  mentioned  something 
to  me  which  decided  me  to  have  this  unpleasant  con- 
versation with  you." 

"May  I  venture  to  ask  what  that  was?"  sneered  Gen- 
evieve. 

Gaidik  glanced  at  her  through  a  thin  cloud  of  smoke. 

"Certainly,  since  that  is  precisely  what  I  wish  most  to 
tell  you.  He  confessed  to  me  that  you  are  getting  into 
the  habit  of  threatening  him  with  Mettray,  a  mere  trifle, 
as  you  see,  but  one  which,  unfortunately,  is  preying  on 
his  mind,  and  getting  on  his  nerves  to  a  very  alarming 
extent." 

Genevieve  laughed  unpleasantly.  "I'm  glad  to  hear 
it  has  had  so  much  effect,  for  I  thought  he  showed  re- 
markably little  fear  when  I  warned  him  of  my  intentions, 
and  that  he  was  becoming  sadly  callous." 

Honest  indignation  leaped  to  Gaidik's  eyes.  Her 

163 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

cigarette  was  almost  finished.  She  drew  one  more  long 
inhalation  and  threw  the  burning  end  into  a  little  brook, 
hustling  and  gurgling  beneath  a  tangle  of  wild  convol- 
vulus, where  it  fizzled  faintly,  then  she  emitted  the  smoke 
in  a  thin,  slow,  spiral  column,  for  she  did  not  as  yet  trust 
herself  to  speak. 

"I  cannot  believe  that  you  really  mean  what  you  say," 
she  at  last  managed  to  enunciate,  with  unaltered  calm- 
ness, "nor  that  your  menace  was  more  than  a  very  poor 
joke,  but  Loic  is  far  deeper  than  you  think,  and  the  joke, 
if  joke  there  be,  is  doing  him  much  harm,  so  it  would  be 
best  to  discontinue  it,  especially  since,  adoring  him  as 
you  do,  you  cannot  possibly  enjoy  it  yourself." 

"You  are  at  perfect  liberty  to  believe  anything  you 
like.  For  the  sake  of  convenience,  we  will  say  that  I  was 
joking,  but  if  I  catch  you  endeavoring  to  take  the  wind 
out  of  my  sails,  I  will  make  things  uncommonly  hot  for 
you,  Marc'haid,  that's  all  I  have  to  tell  you!" 

Absolutely  stupefied,  Gaidik  gazed  at  her  mother.  For 
a  moment  they  faced  each  other,  these  two  great  ladies, 
both  equally  determined  and  handsome,  one  dark,  black- 
eyed,  sinuous  in  her  feminine  grace,  the  other  fair,  with 
glinting,  coppery  hair  and  thoughtful,  deep-set  gray  eyes, 
both  sitting  straight  and  slender  with  a  peculiarly  proud 
and  unbending  carriage  of  the  head.  Diamond  was,  in- 
deed, cutting  diamond. 

"Have  you  anything  more  to  add?"  Genevieve  asked, 
insolently. 

Gaidik  continued  to  look  for  a  minute  or  so  at  her 
mother,  as  one  looks  at  some  curious  phenomenon. 

"Yes!"  she  said  at  length,  firmly,  but  quite  respect- 
fully. "I  have  to  tell  you,  Mamma,  that  if  you  do  not 
promise  me  to  give  up  using  that  sort  of  threat,  I  will  be 
forced  to  inform  Uncle  Ren  4  of  what  is  going  on  here." 

164 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

"And  by  what  right  will  you  do  that?"  Genevieve  in- 
quired, in  a  voice  made  low  and  unsteady  by  anger. 

"By  the  right  of  affection,  justice,  and  fair  play!" 
Gaidik  retorted,  with  a  certain  cruel  relish,  which  was 
founded  entirely  upon  the  present  situation,  for  to  be 
vindictive  was  totally  unlike  her. 

"  Do  you  realize  that  you  are  speaking  to  your  Mother, 
and  that,  moreover,  you  are  proposing  to  assume  a  ter- 
rible responsibility  ?"  the  other  continued,  in  the  same 
tone. 

"Yes,"  was  the  unexpected  answer,  "although  it  is 
difficult  just  now  to  realize  the  first  part  of  your  question. 
As  to  the  latter  I  would  consider  myself  utterly  despic- 
able were  I  to  shun  the  responsibility  you  allude  to." 

"By  Heavens,  my  girl!"  Genevieve  cried,  with  an  in- 
credulous wonder  in  her  flashing  eyes.  "You  are  cer- 
tainly possessed  of  considerable  pluck  to  oppose  me  in 
this  way.  I  have  broken  you  before,  and  I  can  do  so 
again!" 

The  implacable  Gaidik  nodded  her  head  in  calm  ac- 
quiescence. She  was  too  straightforward  to  deny  the 
truth  of  her  mother's  words,  knowing  full  well  that  the 
battle  would  be  an  unequal  one.  As  coolly  as  ever  she 
replied : 

"I'm  afraid  you  are  right!  I  have  not  undertaken  an 
easy  task,  nor  do  I  relish  placing  myself  in  direct  opposi- 
tion to — my  Mother — for  at  heart  I  am  slavishly  respect- 
ful of — of — the  maternal  dignity,  and  have  endured  much 
to  keep  within  the  duties  it  prescribes,  but  I  will  do  as  I 
have  said,  nevertheless."  There  was  an  unpleasant  glit- 
ter in  her  eyes,  and  her  whole  face  was  transformed  by 
it.  "Loic  comes  first  and  foremost  with  me,  and  in  re- 
gard to  him  there  is  no  time  to  lose,  so  I  shall  certainly 
not  prove  weak-kneed." 

165 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

"Just  like  your  impudence  to  talk  that  sort  of  rub- 
bish!" Genevieve  exclaimed,  furiously.  "But  go  ahead, 
if  you  like!  Loic  is  my  son,  and  I  can  do  with  him  just 
as  I  please.  Nobody  will  ever  believe  that  I  do  not  love 
him — not  even  himself — so  you  can  do  your  worst,  and 
that  at  once.  I  don't  care — a  snap  of  the  fingers!" 

"Very  well,"  Gaidik  said,  quietly,  and  she  was  about 
to  close  the  conversation  by  moving  away,  when  she 
chanced  to  look  at  her  companion.  Again  their  eyes  met, 
and  she  paused,  for  Genevieve' s  face  had  suddenly  grown 
haggard.  It  was  no  longer  the  face  of  a  reckless,  angry 
woman  devoid  of  all  scruple.  In  a  moment  the  very 
features  had  changed,  and  she  who  rode  there  beside  her 
was  a  hunted  creature  with  scared  eyes  and  trembling 
lips.  Gaidik  had  a  thoroughly  strong  nature's  true  soft- 
ness of  heart,  and  a  wave  of  pity  and  irresistible  regret 
rushed  over  her  instantly.  She  bent  towards  her  mother 
and,  impelled  by  genuine  and  sincere  sympathy,  said, 
pleadingly : 

"Please  forgive  me,  Mamma,  if  I  have  hurt  you,  but 
do  tell  me  that  you  were  not  in  earnest  about  Mettray, 
and  that  you  will  not  use  that  threat  any  more.  It  cuts 
me  to  the  heart  to  see  you  look  like  that!" 

A  gleam  of  triumph  shot  between  Genevieve's  swiftly 
lowered  eyelids.  She  had  been  terribly  frightened,  and 
now  felt  like  crying  out  with  the  sudden  relief,  but  she 
was  far  too  clever  to  give  herself  away,  and  so,  pushing 
Gaidik's  extended  little  hand  roughly  from  her,  she  as- 
sumed an  air  of  deep  offence. 

"You  might  have  known,"  she  said,  sulkily,  "that  I 
was  only  using  Mettray  as  a  whip-lash  when  Loic  was  too 
impossible — and  that  he  is  impossible  at  times  you  are 
well  aware.  Who  do  you  take  me  for  to  imagine  that  I 
ever  meant  it  seriously  ?  But  you  always  did  jump  at 

166 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

conclusions  for  the  most  part  based  upon  your  own  ex- 
traordinary fancies!"  There  were  actually  tears  in  her 
eyes,  and  she  dabbed  at  them  with  a  dainty  little  lace 
handkerchief,  which  had  surely  been  woven  on  purpose 
for  such  idle  tasks. 

For  one  fleeting  instant  Gaidik  watched  her  with  a 
puzzled  expression,  like  that  of  some  one  who  hears  a 
sound,  and  sees  a  sight  for  which  it  is  impossible  to  ac- 
count. She  had  grown  singularly  pale,  for  a  faint,  un- 
easy doubt  tugged  obstinately  at  her  heart;  but  her 
nature  was,  alas,  of  those  which  seem  destined  never 
quite  to  realize  the  possibility  of  treachery;  not  because 
they  are  devoid  of  shrewdness  or  of  a  very  high  order  of 
intelligence,  but  because  they  are  possessed  of  a  fund 
of  frank  confidence  that  never  turns  completely  to  dis- 
trust. Such  was  Gaidik,  and  thus  it  happened  that  un- 
consciously she  played  into  her  mother's  hands,  repulsed 
doubt — that  wise  inward  counsellor — and  finally  allowed 
herself  to  be  persuaded  that  it  was  she  who  had  been 
unjust  and  in  the  wrong.  She  was  destined  never  to 
discover  what  it  is  to  be  consumed,  harried,  driven,  by 
a  deep,  inextinguishable,  unassuageable  craving  for  in- 
trigue and  the  tortuous  byways  of  craft,  and  in  the 
innocence  of  her  soul  she  traversed  the  rest  of  the  forest 
roads  to  the  castle,  on  that  mellow  autumn  morning,  her 
dark  mood  quite  evaporated,  thinking  and  speaking  with 
renewed  hope  and  joy  of  Loic's  future.  Had  not  Gen- 
evieve  at  last  consented  to  promise  in  the  most  solemn 
and  binding  fashion  never  even  to  allude  again  to  the 
terrors  of  Mettray?  That  any  one  could  fail  to  keep  a 
word  thus  given  never  for  a  second  entered  Gaidik's 
range  of  possible  events — she  was  not  yet  worldly  wise 
enough  for  that. 

While  the  ill-assorted  mother  and  daughter  were  still 

167 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

a  few  hundred  yards  from  the  park  walls,  Loic  himself 
ran  joyfully  out  to  meet  them. 

"Here,  at  last!"  he  cried,  with  his  brilliant  smile.  "I 
was  just  going  to  ride  after  you  when  I  heard  the  beat- 
ing of  hoofs  approaching;  but  it  was  mean  of  you,  Gaid, 
to  steal  a  march  on  me!" 

His  eyes  sought  his  sister's  face,  and  searching  there 
discovered  that  he  had,  however,  been  right  not  to  fol- 
low her.  From  the  brightness  of  her  expression  he 
turned  his  attention  to  his  mother,  beside  whose  horse  he 
was  walking,  one  hand  carelessly  playing  with  the  slack- 
ened bridle,  and  detected  that  she,  too,  was  singularly 
amiable  of  aspect,  from  which  favorable  signs  he  argued 
that  all  was  going  well. 

"What  can  Gaidik  have  said  to  her?"  he  asked  himself 
with  pardonable  curiosity;  "but  Gaid  always  succeeds  in 
all  she  undertakes;  she's  a  witch!"  and  aloud  he  re- 
marked : 

"I'll  tell  you  what  we'll  do,  let's  go  for  a  short  cruise 
after  lunch.  The  sea  is  almost  quiet  again,  and  if  you 
say  so,  Mamma,  I'll  tell  them  to  get  the  Foam  -  Crest 
ready,  and  we  can  start  immediately  after  we've  swal- 
lowed the  last  mouthful."  The  Foam  -  Crest  was  a 
handsome,  quick-sailing  yawl  presented  to  Loic  by  his 
mother  on  his  last  birthday,  and  was  the  pride  of  his 
heart.  Her  clean,  long  spars,  her  snowy  sails,  the  daz- 
zling gleam  of  her  elaborate  brass  fittings,  the  way  she 
splashed  and  gurgled  through  the  water  at  her  topmost 
speed,  spelled  absolute  delight  for  her  young  owner.  But 
Madame  de  Kergoat  declined  the  pleasures  of  a  "short 
cruise"  in  that  most  beauteous  of  crafts,  judging  with 
her  customary  shrewdness  that  the  softened  Gaidik  would 
talk  to  Loic  in  a  way  advantageous  to  herself,  wherefore 
she  left  the  brother  and  sister  to  the  enjoyment  of  each 

168 


THE   TRIDENT    AND   THE    NET 

other's  company — a  circumstance  over  which,  to  be  frank, 
they  did  not  greatly  mourn. 

When  they  started,  the  sea  was  of  a  transparent,  gray- 
ish-green exquisite  to  behold,  and  Kadoc — who,  of  course, 
was  Loic's  sailing-master — prophesying  fine  weather,  they 
scudded  away  merrily  before  the  breeze.  At  first  Gaidik 
and  Loic  talked  in  a  scrappy,  erratic  way,  walking  side 
by  side  fore  and  aft,  and  stopping  at  every  turn  to  chat 
with  Kadoc,  who  had  the  wheel,  and  whose  bronzed 
countenance  fairly  beamed  with  joy  at  seeing  them  to- 
gether again. 

Thanks  to  a  successful  fight  with  some  last  remnants 
of  her  anxieties,  Gaidik  was  in  excellent  spirits,  and  so 
unchanged  that  Kadoc  could  hardly  believe  his  eyes,  as 
he  watched  her  active  little  figure  in  its  trim  nautical 
attire  swing  to  the  roll  of  the  yawl  with  all  the  ease  of 
by-gone  days,  her  face  flushed  with  delight. 

"  Sainte  Mere  des  Anges  /"  he  muttered,  between  his 
strong,  white  teeth.  "Can  it  be  true  that  there's  a  man 
bad-hearted  enough  to  make  her  unhappy?  She's  just 
our  Mam'zelle  Gaidik,  not  a  bit  altered,  just  the  same 
brave  little  soldier,  the  Saints  bless  her!" 

They  had  by  now  rounded  the  "  Pointe  de  Kergoat," 
and  the  water,  still  restless  from  the  storm  of  the  previous 
day,  was  running  round  them  in  pale-colored  hills,  but 
it  was  a  foamless  sea  that  alternately  lifted  the  yawl 
and  let  her  slide  into  transparent,  glassy  pits  with  the 
regularity  of  clock-work.  This  "mountain-climbing"  in 
no  way  disturbed  Gaidik  or  Loic,  who,  to  the  manner 
born,  stood  up  to  the  long,  graceful,  undulating  sway  of 
the  tiny  yacht,  as  they  watched  the  sails  of  a  dozen 
Sinagots  dotting  the  horizon,  where  the  sun  turned  the 
water  to  faint  pearl  and  amethyst.  The  wheel  groaned 
and  kicked  softly,  the  sails  slatted  a  little  in  the  shifts 

xa  169 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

of  the  light  wind,  and  as  they  drew  nearer  to  the  herring 
fleet  they  breathed  to  the  very  bottom  of  their  lungs 
the  delicious,  all-encircling  fragrance  of  the  ocean. 

"Feeling  better,  eh?"  Loic  said,  with  a  grin,  looking  at 
his  sister's  bright  face. 

"I  should  think  so!  This  sort  of  thing  clears  the  eye, 
the  soul,  and  the  heart!  It's  just  like  camellias!" 

"How  camellias?" 

"The  sight  of  them,  I  mean.  That  tall  hedge  all  pink 
and  white,  and  brilliant  polished  green — solid,  wholesome, 
clean-looking,  and  old-fashioned — on  the  north  terrace 
always  produces  the  same  honest,  bracing  effect  upon  me." 

"Well,  you  are  a  queer  one,  Gaid;  but  look,  here  are  a 
lot  of  your  old  friends;  away  off  there  is  Yawen  Gwes- 
mark,  in  his  Good-Luck  boat;  these  other  four  along- 
side of  him  are  from  Kergoat,  too.  They'll  be  slipping 
by  in  a  minute;  don't  you  recognize  them?" 

"Of  course  I  do;  who  do  you  take  me  for?"  was  the 
laughing  answer.  "Let's  go  nearer  to  them  Kadoc!" 
she  shouted. 

The  wheel  twitched  almost  imperceptibly  in  the  big 
sailor's  hand,  and  the  Foam-Crest  gambolled  gayly  into 
the  midst  of  the  covey  of  fishing  -  boats  dancing  on 
the  gold-tipped  waves.  Gaidik  was  dancing,  too,  with  the 
joy  of  finding  herself  again  on  that  waste  of  wallowing 
sea,  so  often  vexed  with  gales,  so  continuously  scored  by 
the  tracks  of  the  Kergoat  boats,  and  which  she  loved  in 
all  its  moods,  even  the  worst.  To-day,  however,  was 
clear  and  soft  and  warm,  and  it  thrilled  her  to  feel  the 
agile  and  graceful  yawl  slide  over  the  long  hollows,  as 
the  foresail  scythed  back  and  forth  against  her  beloved 
hazy  Breton  sky,  and  when  the  red  sails  of  Yawen's  boat 
glided  into  nearer  proximity  she  called  out,  in  her  old, 
merry  fashion: 

170 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

"He!  Yawen,  what  luck  to-day?"  thus  causing  the 
four  men  and  the  boy  of  that  equipage  to  wave  their  wool- 
len caps  ecstatically  and  to  utter  a  loud  chorus  of  deep- 
throated  welcomes. 

"Why,  that's  like  being  home  again,"  laughed  Gaidik, 
waving  her  hand  frantically  to  Yawen,  a  thick-set,  clean- 
shaven man  clothed  in  a  dark-blue  Jersey  and  high  rub- 
ber boots,  who  was  standing  knee-deep  in  a  silver  heap 
of  freshly  caught  fish. 

"Full  boat,  Mam'zelle  Gaidik!"  the  patron  called  back, 
with  a  chuckle — "topping  full!  You're  bringing  us  fair 
fishing  luck,  my  little  Lady!" 

In  another  boat,  close  aboard,  a  stream  of  glittering 
herrings  was  being  thrown  into  great,  square  baskets, 
with  coarse  salt  spread  between  the  successive  layers, 
one  man  pitching  the  herrings  continuously  to  those 
charged  with  "packing"  them,  the  rasping  sound  of 
rough  salt  rubbed  on  the  metallic  scales  of  the  fish 
clearly  perceptible  above  the  whispering  of  the  long  swells 
melting  beneath  the  keels,  and  forming  a  steady  Leit- 
motif to  the  gentle  flaps  of  the  sails,  the  creaking  of  the 
ropes,  and  the  soft  hum  of  the  breeze  in  the  rigging.  It 
was  a  charming  coup  d'aeil,  this  little  fleet  hard  at  work, 
and  the  enthusiastic  reception  accorded  to  the  young 
Marquis  in  his  azure- and- white  sweater,  and  the  lovely 
little  Duchess  standing  by  the  wheel,  a  beret  stuck  firmly 
on  her  bright  hair,  in  the  most  business-like  way,  was  not 
the  least  charming  feature  of  it. 

These  two  Aristocrats  were  with  them,  and  of  them  at 
heart,  the  fishermen  knew,  they  looked  at  them  toiling 
there  with  eyes  steady,  clear,  and  knowing,  and  spoke 
in  affectionate,  sympathetic  voices.  Truly,  they  were 
Seigneurs  of  whom  they  might  well  be  proud,  and  whom, 
besides,  they  really  and  genuinely  loved,  so  when  the 

171 


THE    TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

Foam  -  Crest,  after  having  paid  her  bienvenue,  crawled 
regretfully  away  to  begin  her  homeward  journey,  the 
hurricane  of  adieus  which  followed  them  were  as  re- 
luctant as  if  they  had  been  laboriously  windlassed  out 
of  each  separate  man. 

The  yawl  picked  up  a  light,  friendly  northeaster  off 
Cape  Kergoat  that  drove  her  swiftly  within  view  of 
Kergoat  itself,  and  Kadoc  cheerily  cried,  "All's  well," 
as  he  relinquished  the  wheel  to  Gaidik's  eager  little 
hands. 

With  a  sigh  of  content,  Loic  sat  down  on  a  smartly 
coiled  rope  at  her  feet. 

"By -the -way,  Gaid,"  he  said,  suddenly,  "what  did 
you  tell  Mamma  this  morning?  I  was  amazed  when  I 
saw  her  smiling  and  gracious,  for  I  knew  by  your  face 
that  you'd  been  talking  to  her,  and  I've  been  eaten  up 
with  curiosity  ever  since,  but  I  did  not  want  to  spoil  our 
trip  by  bringing  my  troubles  on  the  tapis  at  once." 

Gaidik  changed  color,  and  her  eyes  lost  their  joyful 
expression.  The  remembrance  of  that  morning's  ride 
was  like  an  extinguisher  to  her  present  delight. 

"Oh,"  she  said,  rather  vaguely,  "I  don't  know  that 
it's  any  use  going  over  all  that  again.  Anyhow,  she 
swore  to  me  that  she  only  meant  to  frighten  you  into 
good  behavior,  and  she  solemnly  promised  —  gave  me 
her  sacred  word  of  honor,  you  know — never  to  do  so 
again.  I  think,  Loic,  darling,  that  you  shotild  not  fret 
her  about  the  Borda,  though.  Don't  mind  my  saying 
so,  but  it  is  not  quite  manly  to  tease  her  with  doubts 
as  to  your  ultimately  joining  it."  She  turned  a  couple 
of  spokes  of  the  wheel,  glanced  a  second  over  her  shoulder, 
and  then  nodded  at  him  in  her  tender,  confiding  little 
way. 

"I  told  you  last  night,  Gaid,"  he  said,  earnestly,  as  if 

172 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

a  great  load  had  been  suddenly  lifted  from  his  mind, 
"that  I  would  do  all  you  wish  me  to  do,  and  I  hope  that 
you  know  me  well  enough  not  to  doubt  my  keeping  my 
word.  If  you  say  Borda,  a  Bordache  I  will  be — and — oh, 
I  wish  I  could  tell  you  how  grateful  I  am  for  what  you've 
done!  I  know  how  much  it  must  have  cost  you  to  speak 
to  Mamma,  but  then  you  never  count  your  trouble  where 
others  are  concerned.  Anyhow,  my  ownest  own  Gaid, 
I'll  do  my  very,  very  best  to  thank  you  with  something 
better  than  empty  words,  you  can  count  on  that." 

Her  eyes  were  soft  and  deep  and  dark  as  she  bent 
down  to  kiss  him  quickly  before  turning  her  attention 
again  to  her  steering,  and  they  still  retained  the  same 
expression  of  profound  tenderness  as  she  guided  the 
Foam  -  Crest  towards  the  Kergoat  landing  -  wharf  with 
the  practised  hand  of  an  accomplished  pilot.  Gaidik  for 
once  felt  perfectly  happy  and  hopeful! 

That  night  there  was  to  be  a  gala  dinner  in  her  honor, 
to  which  all  the  Nobles  of  the  neighborhood  had  been 
bidden,  and  several  members  of  the  family  would  also 
be  present,  so  they  hurried  in,  arm  in  arm,  to  "make 
themselves  beautiful — se  faire  beaux!"  as  Loic  laughingly 
remarked. 

The  castle  seemed  to  tower  up  into  the  very  clouds  as 
they  re-entered  it,  the  evening  sun  shining  redly  on  all 
its  battlements  and  Gothic  spires.  It  looked  more  than 
ever  worthy  of  its  great  traditions,  for  the  state  apart- 
ments were  open,  the  servants  wore  their  state  liveries, 
and  the  whole  splendid  building  was  filled  with  animated 
and  brilliant  life. 

A  curious  inward  glow,  a  sense  of  elation  and  of  bound- 
less relief,  accompanied  Loic  all  the  way  to  his  own 
rooms,  and  mingled  with  the  cares  occupying  his  im- 
mediate attention.  He  knew  that  he  owed  it  all  to  his 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

sister,  and,  having  dressed,  hastened  to  go  and  wait  for 
her  in  the  long,  tapestried  corridor  upon  which  her  suite 
opened.  Nor  had  he  long  to  wait,  for  Gaidik  was  quick 
in  everything  she  did,  and  she  soon  appeared,  the  most 
exquisite  of  small  figures,  in  a  daintily  simple  little  silk- 
muslin  frock  of  palest,  palest  shell  pink — an  indescribable 
complexity  of  softness  and  airy  folds — hemmed  with  a 
thick  ruche  of  freshly  gathered  Malmaison  carnations, 
which  also  encircled  her  perfect  shoulders.  The  way  her 
hair  was  arranged,  low  about  the  brow  and  sweeping 
backward  in  a  sort  of  natural  tidal -wave,  breaking  loose 
in  a  foam  of  delicious,  curling  tendrils  around  her  heavy 
coronal  of  braids,  was  unique,  and  her  big,  gray  eyes  were 
full  of  light  as  she  caught  sight  of  Loic.  With  swift  pleas- 
ure and  surprise,  she  held  out  her  two  tiny  hands  shining 
with  their  panoply  of  superb  rings.  "That's  so  nice  of 
you,  Loic,  to  have  waited  for  me!"  she  exclaimed,  tuck- 
ing ruthlessly  under  her  rounded  arm  a  fan  of  pink 
mother-of-pearl  and  pink  ostrich  feathers,  upon  the  end 
sticks  of  which  her  cipher  and  crown  sparkled  in  pink 
pearls  and  brilliants. 

"What  an  out-and-out  pretty  toilette!"  the  boy  cried, 
turning  round  and  round  her  to  examine  it  the  better. 
"You're  tremendous,  Gaid,  and  I'll  laugh  to  glimpse  the 
faces  of  the  dowagers  when  they  see  you." 

Gaidik  glanced  down  at  her  fragrant  skirts  and  laughed. 
Her  face  looked  extraordinarily  delicate  and  childish  in 
the  moonlight,  which  was  beginning  to  rain  its  ame- 
thystine fires  through  the  immense  windows  of  the  up- 
per hall,  near  which  they  were  standing — so  young,  in- 
deed, that  the  little  strawberry -leaved  crown  entwined  in 
her  tawny  hair  struck  one  with  a  sense  of  positive  in- 
congruity. 

"It  is  a  costume  suited  to  the  season  and  the  roseate 

174 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

occasion,"  she  laughed,  "but,  of  course,  that's  no  reason 
for  begrudging  it  a  word  of  praise." 

"No,  you're  right;  the  whole  affair,  costume  included, 
deserves  the  best  we  can  say  of  it,"  Loic  admitted,  "for 
you've  made  everything  rosy  for  me.  Your  very  laugh, 
Madame  Gaid,  is  like  nacre  and  pink  velvet."  They 
stood  for  a  minute  or  two  in  silence,  hand-in-hand,  in- 
haling the  mellow  air.  woven  of  garden  fragrance,  which 
almost  palpably  hung  around  them  like  some  astonish- 
ingly subtle  fabric,  and  then  walked  reluctantly  down- 
stairs, chatting  gayly.  All  Loic's  past  nervousness  and 
excitement  had  entirely  left  him,  his  old  assurance  had 
completely  returned,  together  with  a  curious  feeling  that 
the  world  left  nothing  just  then  to  be  desired.  To  re- 
gain his  sister's  companionship  was  what  he  had  been 
unconsciously  needing  all  along,  and  his  sense  of  her 
presence  as  she  walked  down-stairs  beside  him,  her  ethereal- 
looking  skirts  touching  him,  the  piquant  perfume  of  her 
carnations  shaken  at  each  step  towards  his  nostrils,  filled 
him  with  a  joy  that  for  the  moment  seemed  ultimate. 

On  the  last  landing  they  overtook  their  mother,  who, 
clad  in  black  laces,  with  a  collar  of  rubies  and  diamonds 
at  her  throat  and  a  ruby-and-diamond  "fender"  of  ex- 
treme magnificence  above  her  classic  brow,  swept  on  be- 
fore them  with  something  of  the  tragic  muse  in  her  dark 
beauty. 

The  banqueting  -  hall  was  absolutely  dazzling  as  half 
an  hour  later  the  brilliant  file  of  guests  entered  it,  for  in 
matters  of  etiquette  the  Marquise  ruled  her  household 
like  a  small  Court,  and  from  the  upper  servants  in  black 
with  knee-breeches,  and  the  countless  powdered  footmen 
in  azure-and-silver  liveries,  to  the  gold  plate  and  wonder- 
ful flowers  with  which  the  table  was  covered,  everything 
was  the  acme  of  perfection. 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

Loic  made  a  little  grimace  as  he  took  his  place  opposite 
his  mother — she  had  insisted  that  he  should  occupy  the 
seat  of  the  master  of  the  house — for  he  knew  only  too 
well  that  the  repast  would  be  long  and  extremely  tedious. 
These  formal  and  prolonged  ceremonials  are  a  time- 
honored  Breton  custom,  and  at  Kergoat  all  such  hered- 
itary usages  were  always  carefully  observed. 

On  his  right  sat  a,  to  him,  very  formidable  personage — 
his  father's  elder  sister,  the  Countess  de  Brielle.  Still 
exceedingly  handsome,  stately,  tall,  and  looking  remark- 
ably like  Empress  Maria-Theresa,  Madame  de  Brielle  had 
retained  three  of  youth's  attributes — a  deliciously  fresh 
skin,  a  frank  laugh,  and  a  keen  capacity  for  the  enjoy- 
ment of  life.  Her  splendid  hair,  white  as  snow,  sparkled 
like  threads  of  spun  glass  beneath  her  diamond  tiara, 
and  so  did  her  beautiful  old  blue  eyes,  whose  keen  glances 
revealed  an  unlimited  fund  of  curiosity,  shrewdness, 
worldly  wisdom,  and  very  merciless  wit.  She  was  one  of 
the  most  brilliant  and  most  amusing  women  in  Europe. 

''And  so  you  are  our  Amphitryon!"  she  murmured, 
turning  abruptly  to  her  nephew,  "that  is  a  new  whim 
of  Genevieve's,  eh?  How  do  you  like  it?" 

"Not  at  all,"  Loic  frankly  affirmed;  "only,"  he  added, 
with  a  rueful  modulation  of  his  merry  voice,  "it  would 
not  have  done  a  bit  of  good  for  me  to  tell  Mamma  so." 

Madame  de  Brielle  laughed.  "Well,  you  certainly  are 
off  the  beaten  path,  but  I'm  celebrated  for  my  mastery 
of  unprecedented  situations.  Will  you  allow  me  to  help 
you  out,  if,  in  spite  of  your  far-famed  aplomb,  you  find 
yourself  at  all  embarrassed?" 

"  I  will  be  very  much  obliged,"  he  replied,  quite  gravely. 
"  It's  very  nice  of  you  to  propose  it,  Aunt  Elizabeth." 

The  Dowager  was  surprised,  and  her  eyes  swiftly 
changed,  their  mocking  becoming  veiled  by  a  kind  of 

176 


THE    TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

humorous  content.     She  was  beginning  to  approve  of  her 
nephew. 

"We  know  more  or  less  about  each  other  only  by 
hearsay,"  she  smilingly  remarked,  "but  this  moment 
makes  for  sociability  and  confidence,  mon  bonhomme!" 

Loic  chuckled,  for  he,  too,  was  pleasantly  surprised, 
but  in  a  minute  he  pulled  a  long  face  and  made  big, 
rounded,  ominous  eyes. 

"Pray,  tell  me  then,  Aunt  Elizabeth,  whether  it  is  nec- 
essary for  me  to  speak  to  the  overtrimmed  lady  on  my 
other  hand?"  he  whispered.  "She  can't  expect  me  to 
entertain  her  with  brilliant  conversation,  can  she?" 

Madame  de  Brielle  simmered  with  enjoyment. 

"Bless  you,"  she  cried,  leaning  back  and  tittering  gen- 
tly, "that's  the  Baroness  Delahaye,  a  highly  original  per- 
son by  all  accounts.  Clever  woman,  too;  never  knows 
when  she  has  received  a  rebuff.  She's  unavoidable  at 
meetings  of  the  clans  like  this  one,  but  she  is  somewhat 
heavy;  also,  she  has  two  daughters  to  marry  off,  and  lives 
in  perpetual  dread  of  seeing  them  remain  on  her  hands. 
Perhaps  she  may  make  you  commit  yourself  if  you  are 
too  amiable,  Loic,  and  it  will  be  charged  up  to  you  some 
ten  years  from  now,  which  may  be  unpleasant,  since  her 
youngest  olive-branch  is  a  generous  decade  older  than 
yourself." 

"I'd  better  keep  a  strict  guard  upon  myself,  then?" 
Loic  remarked,  with  perfect  gravity,  but  his  eyes  dancing 
with  fun. 

"Do  you  know,"  his  aunt  said,  "I  made  until  to-night 
one  of  the  most  ridiculous  blunders  of  my  life,  which 
annoys  me,  for  it  must  be  a  symptom  of  failing  powers. 
I  told  myself  a  hundred  times  or  more  that  you  were  a 
great  nuisance,  Loic,  and  now  I  find  that  you're  nothing 
of  the  sort — moreover,  you're  positively  exhilarating." 

177 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

"I'm  in  luck,  then,  Aunt  Elizabeth,"  he  rejoined,  with 
a  courtly  little  bow,  "because  it  appears  that  you're  very 
hard  to  please,  and — "  His  gesture  spoke  volumes  of  deep 
information  on  the  subject  and  completed  his  sentence 
satisfactorily. 

"You  seem  to  be  possessed  of  my  entire  dossier,  my 
dear.  Your  knowledge  of  me  is  evidently  as  accurate 
as  it  is  extensive;  but  isn't  it  getting  rather  gloomy 
here  ?  This  little  banquet  is  elaborately  chiselled  and  high- 
ly polished,  but  it  lacks  animation.  Wait  a  bit;  I'm 
afraid  I'll  have  to  throw  myself  into  the  breach  for  the 
honor  of  the  House  of  Kergoat,  so  eat  your  pheasant  in 
peace,  and  presently  we'll  resume  our  pleasant  little 
chat." 

Loic  did  as  he  was  bid,  but,  not  being  as  yet  much  of 
a  gourmet,  he  soon  neglected  the  succulent  morsels  on 
his  plate  for  the  pleasure  of  watching  Gaidik,  several 
seats  away,  aux  prises  with  a  very  witty  brother  of  her 
mother's,  who  had  arrived  at  Kergoat  an  hour  before, 
and  had  been  placed  beside  her,  simply  because  they 
eternally  disagreed,  and,  both  being  past  -  masters  at 
repartee,  always  provided  unlimited  amusement  for  all 
listeners.  Not  at  all  like  his  sister  in  looks,  Prince  Paul 
was  yet  endowed  with  the  same  arbitrary,  tyrannical, 
and  altogether  selfish  nature,  but,  lacking  her  occasional 
flashes  of  tenderness,  he  was  far  more  dangerous  than 
she.  Still,  as  he  possessed  an  enormous  fortune,  was  a 
confirmed  bachelor  and  a  dashing  cavalry  leader  in  his 
own  land,  he  was  a  star  of  the  first  magnitude,  before 
whom  everybody  save  Gaidik  and  Loic  prostrated  them- 
selves. With  them  he  was  not  popular,  and  Loic  especi- 
ally could  not  endure  him — a  sentiment  which  was  fully 
reciprocated. 

Gaidik' s  eyes  were  sparkling,  her  lips  were  twitching 

178 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

with  mischievous  amusement — her  whole  person  had  an 
expression — and  all  the  other  women  in  the  room  seemed 
tame  and  uninteresting  beside  her.  So  again  she  became 
the  absorbing  subject  of  his  thoughts,  and  he  was  genuinely 
startled  when  his  aunt,  having  set  the  whole  table  laugh- 
ing by  some  of  her  most  witty  sarcasms,  claimed  his  at- 
tention once  more. 

"Watching  Gaidik,  eh?"  she  began,  gayly.  "She's  a 
bijou,  Gaidik — another  surprise  to  me,  for  I  had  fancied, 
somehow,  that  she'd  be  altered — spoiled  by  all  her  suc- 
cesses. I'd  propped  up  a  portrait  of  what  she  would  be- 
come before  my  mental  eyes,  but  I'm  an  old  fool,  because 
she's  perfect  in  every  detail  of  her  soul  and  person,  is  little 
Gaidik — down  to  the  very  intonation  of  her  voice,  the 
rings  on  her  fingers,  the  frou-frou  of  her  skirts,  the  very 
perfume  she  prefers.  That's  like  you,  Loic.  The  cur- 
tain is  rising  upon  Act  Three,  and  I  fancy  I  can  perceive 
faint  glimmerings  of  success  in  your  future.  Are  you 
really  going  into  the  navy?" 

"Oh,  Aunt  Elizabeth,  don't  ask  me  that.  Everybody 
seems  convinced  that  I'm  destined  to  become  an  admiral, 
I  think!"  and  he  laughed  heartily. 

"Well,  since  every  one  is  so  sanguine,  I  may  as  well 
tell  you  that  I  entertain  no  such  hopes.  If  you  have  a 
spark  of  true  zeal,  all  right;  but  if  not,  I'd  pause  and  re- 
flect. For  in  case  you  yourself  don't  like  the  idea,  my 
voice  would  emphatically  be  against  your  joining  the 
Bordar 

Loic  looked  intensely  surprised  for  a  moment;  then, 
"I'm  trying  to  realize  that  you  really  and  truly  think 
just  as  I  do,  Aunt  Elizabeth,"  he  declared.  "But  what 
would  you  have  me  do  if  I  didn't  go  into  the  navy,  since 
my  'career,'  as  Mamma  calls  it,  appears  to  be  a  matter 
of  international  importance  ?" 

179 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

"Marry  as  early  as  possible  a  true  daughter  of  Brittany, 
to  be  sure — the  finest  country  in  the  three  continents," 
she  replied — "a  proper  woman  filled  with  'the  star-fire 
of  the  Celtic  nature/  and  have  many  children." 

"But  that's  not  a  profession,  and  every  one  says  that 
I  must  have  a  profession,  une  carriere!"  he  said,  with  a  lit- 
tle frown — "Mamma,  Uncle  Paul,  Uncle  Re"ne,  even  my 
own  Gaid  are  set  upon  it.  As  for  me,  I'd  rather  do  as 
you  say,  Aunt  Elizabeth,  if  only  I  could  find  a  wife  made 
on  the  same  pattern  as  Gaidik." 

"Tut,  tut,  my  lad!"  the  old  Countess  exclaimed,  arch- 
ing her  delicately  pencilled  eyebrows,  "vous  n'etes  pas 
degoute  mon  ami  !  A  woman  like  Gaidik  is  not  picked  up 
every  day,  let  me  assure  you.  But  tell  me,  how  is  it  that 
Re*n£  is  not  here  to-night.  Has  he  quarrelled  with  Gen- 
evieve?" 

"I  think  so,  Aunt  Elizabeth — at  least  Mamma  and  he 
don't  seem  to  pull  well  together.  They  disagreed  about 
me — so  Mamma  said  the  day  before  yesterday — and  I'm 
sorry  for  it,  because  Uncle  Rene  is  my  pet  uncle."  And 
bending  towards  Madame  de  Brielle,  he  added,  in  a  whis- 
per, "I  don't  like  Uncle  Paul  at  all,  and  I  know  he  hates 
me." 

Madame  de  Brielle  pricked  up  her  ears.  "  Hates  you!" 
she  exclaimed,  in  astonishment,  but  without  raising  her 
delightfully  modulated  voice.  "Does  he,  indeed?  It 
got  into  my  head,  somehow,  that  he  was  Genevieve's 
chief  counsellor,  and  to  see  the  way  she  spoils  you  one 
wouldn't  believe  that  she's  advised  by  an  enemy  of  yours 
— although — let  me  think  a  moment."  And  with  a  play 
of  her  eyebrows  that  attributed  her  momentary  absorp- 
tion to  an  effort  of  memory,  "  After  all,  you  may  be  right, 
which  would  be  an  everlasting  pity,  for  Paul  is  by  no 
means  an  adversary  to  be  despised." 

180 


THE    TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

"He's  pretty  nasty,"  the  disrespectful  youth  calmly 
assented;  "and,  just  think,  Aunt  Elizabeth,  it  is  he,  the 
Aristo  par  excellence,  who  eggs  Mamma  on  to  make  me 
enter  the  service  of  the  republic." 

"You  precocious  boy!"  exclaimed  the  Countess.  "But 
then,"  she  continued,  forgetting  to  conceal  her  perturba- 
tion, "you  are  in  a  pretty  bad  dilemma,  my  poor  baby. 
Why  on  earth,  though,  does  Gaidik  join  forces  with  him 
against  you?" 

"Oh,  Aunt  Elizabeth,  Gaid  is  never  against  me,  but — 
she  thinks  it  would  be  best  for  me  to  be  away  from 
here." 

The  Countess  sank  back  in  her  chair,  giving  her  dainty 
head  a  rueful  shake.  "I  had  not  thought  of  that,"  she 
muttered.  "It's  true,  your  case  is  peculiar,  Loic — or- 
dinary rules  won't  apply  to  it.  Well,  I'll  have  to  think 
it  over;  and  don't  forget  that  I'm  your  friend  from  to- 
night on,  come  what  may." 

As  she  said  this  she  looked  with  a  strange  intentness — 
with  a  glance  of  almost  uneasy  question  and  appraise- 
ment—  at  this  handsome,  well-grown,  promising  lad,  so 
young  and  happy  and  radiant.  Her  keen  eyes  wandered 
from  his  brilliant,  merry  ones  to  the  strong,  little  brown 
hand  toying  with  a  fruit-knife,  and  to  the  already  mus- 
cular lines  of  his  lithe  figure,  with  its  supple  grace  and 
strength;  while  behind  him,  surrounding  him,  accessory 
to  him,  she  was  conscious  of  the  superb  luxury  and  state- 
liness  of  his  ancestral  home.  The  picture  was  very 
pleasing,  very  hopeful — but  something  struck  cold  upon 
her  heart  notwithstanding.  What  it  precisely  was  she 
could  not  have  told,  and  yet  for  the  fraction  of  a  second 
the  great  lady  looked  blank,  even  startled.  "This  must 
be  the  effect  of  my  irrepressible  old  imagination,"  she 
thought,  smiling  derisively  at  herself.  Yet  she  longed  to 

181 


THE    TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

question  him  further,  longed  to  find  out  how  the  land 
really  lay,  hesitated,  and  while  she  was  hesitating  the 
interminable  dinner  came  to  a  conclusion.  So  her  dignity 
was  saved  and  her  opportunity  lost. 


Hull  down!  hull  down!  from  the  watching  shore, 
Darkly  her  tops  mid  a  sad  acclaim 
Sink  like  the  phoenix  famed  of  yore 
Aglow  in  orient  flame. 
O  Argo!  furrowing  fold  on  fold 
Through  shaggy  fleeces  of  ocean  gold, 
God  send  his  dove  on  the  pallid  seas 
Where  spume  the  sheer  Symplegades! 
Oh  sing  an  harborage  bleak  and  hoar, 
And  an  empty  splendor  spread  before! 
And  sigh  with  the  bracken  green  and  brown 
On  the  craggy  verge, 
Hull  down ! 

The  Voyage,  IL—M.  M. 

AGAIN  two  years  passed.  During  this  period  Loic 
realized  more  and  more  what  a  terrible  void  the  separa- 
tion from  his  sister  had  left  in  his  life.  He  felt,  indeed, 
quite  lost  without  her,  and  found  no  comfort  in  his 
mother's  ever-increasing  caprices,  for  their  relations  were 
more  discordant  than  ever,  and  the  prospect  of  a  settled 
policy  of  mutual  consideration  became  less  and  less  pos- 
sible as  time  went  on. 

Fire  and  ice!  That  would  characterize  in  brief  all 
phases  of  their  intercourse — an  antagonism  diversified  by 
spasmodic  whirls  of  tempest  and  enervating  lapses  into 
hysterical  tenderness  and  over-indulgence.  Still,  Loic 
managed  to  get  along  somehow,  thanks  to  his  buoyant 
nature,  and  the  early  autumn  found  him  de  guerre  lasse 
aboard  the  Borda  at  Brest.  His  mother,  against  his  ex- 

183 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

press  desire,  had  insisted  on  accompanying  him  to  the 
vessel,  arguing  that  she  wished  to  see  with  her  own  eyes 
how  he  would  fare  in  the  future,  and  finally  the  lad  had 
been  forced  to  yield,  without  much  grace,  it  is  true,  to 
being  made  what  he  called  "such  a  little  boy"  of. 

He  had  now  reached  the  age  when  it  was  unpleasant 
to  him  to  be  reminded  of  how  very  young  he  still  was, 
the  age  when  he  would  have  liked  to  appear  alone,  to 
assume  freely  his  new  and  independent  role  of  "officer 
and  gentleman,"  and  it  sorely  galled  him  to  be  suddenly 
reduced  to  the  position  of  a  child  being  "lugged"  to 
school.  Nor  did  the  dreariness,  the  dirt,  the  misty 
blackness  of  the  great  French  Port  de  Guerre  help  to 
put  him  in  a  good  temper.  He  realized,  with  sudden 
misgivings,  that  he  was  henceforth  to  work  in  good 
earnest,  to  relinquish  all  past  luxuries  and  pleasures,  to 
be  under  close  and  unrelenting  supervision,  and  he  be- 
came deeply  aware  of  a  very  oppressive  sensation  of 
regret  at  these  unlovely  prospects  as  he  journeyed  up- 
country  amid  all  the  pomp  and  state  habitual  to  Madame 
de  Kergoat  when  travelling. 

It  was  a  wet,  cold,  blustering  day  when  they  finally 
boarded  the  training-ship.  The  sailors  and  the  "middies" 
wore  shining  oil-skins,  and  grimy  moisture  dripped  upon 
everything  in  sight,  like  dirty  tears  upon  a  sooty  coun- 
tenance ;  yet  when  he  stood,  at  last,  before  the  Commander, 
it  was  not  fog-drops  that  dampened  his  face,  but  fine 
beads  of  perspiration,  brought  there  by  an  overmaster- 
ing apprehension — of  what  he  scarcely  knew. 

For  the  first  time  in  his  life  Loic  felt  horribly  shy 
and  uncomfortable,  so  much  so,  indeed,  that  he  was 
physically  affected,  and  turned  absurdly  pale. 

The  Commandant  was  a  tall,  thin  man,  with  a  narrow 
forehead,  thick,  wiry  hair,  once  blond,  but  now  turning 

184 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

gray,  and  lack-lustre,  china-blue  eyes,  which  could,  never- 
theless, look  both  very  stern  and  very  harsh  on  occasion. 
Moreover,  the  utter  silliness  of  his  mother's  vehement 
expressions  of  recommendation,  delivered  in  a  voice  of 
freezing  hauteur,  struck  Loic  painfully,  and  he  was  by 
no  means  surprised  at  the  Commandant's  curt  responses 
and  abrupt,  uncompromising  tones. 

"Your  son,  Madame  la  Marquise,  will  take  his  chance 
with  the  others;  we  do  not  believe  in  favoritism  here," 
the  old  sailor  said,  with  aggressive  roughness,  but  there 
he  suddenly  checked  himself,  for  Loic's  expression  had 
gradually  become  so  marked  that  he  could  not  but  observe 
it,  and  for  a  second  gazed  curiously  at  the  sensitive  boy's 
white  face  and  wide-open,  dilated  eyes. 

"Don't  you  want  to  come  to  us,  my  boy?"  he  asked, 
in  an  altered  and  much  kinder  voice,  laying  his  hand  on 
the  well -squared  shoulder  with  suddenly  awakened  in- 
terest and  a  sort  of  grim  sympathy. 

"It  isn't  that,  Mon  Commandant,"  Loic  replied, 
promptly,  looking  frankly  and  directly  at  him.  "But 
I  wouldn't  like  you  to  believe  that  I  " —  he  emphasized 
the  pronoun — "expect  or  desire  any  favors." 

"That's  a  highly  strung,  odd  youngster,"  the  martinet 
thought,  and  aloud  he  said:  "I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say 
so,  and  I  feel  sure  that  you  will  endeavor  to  satisfy  your 
superior  officers  and  be  a  good  comrade  to  your  brother 
midshipmen.  Of  course,  our  discipline  will  seem  hard 
to  you  at  first,  but  you'll  get  used  to  it  very  soon  if  you 
are  what  I  believe  you  to  be." 

"It's  very  good  of  you,  Sir,  to  speak  so,"  Loic  an- 
swered. His  voice  sounded  rather  tremulous,  for  he  had 
deeply  resented  his  mother's  ungraciousness — who  for  the 
life  of  her  could  not  be  cordial  to  the  plebeian  and  self- 
righteous  officer,  although  she,  too,  was  beginning  to  ex- 

13  185 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

perience  a  sinking  feeling  at  the  near  prospect  of  separa- 
tion from  her  son,  and  would  have  been  glad  to  conciliate 
his  future  chief. 

The  moment  for  the  plunge  was  rapidly  approaching. 
In  a  few  hours  at  most  she  would  be  far,  far  away,  and  a 
lump  rose  in  her  throat  at  the  bare  idea  that  she  could 
no  longer,  before  retiring,  peep  into  the  room  where  Loic 
lay  asleep,  while  her  heart  ached  with  longing  for  those  past 
years  during  which  he  had  depended  so  entirely  upon  her. 

As  soon  as  they  were  again  alone  together,  she  smiled 
at  him  in  a  pleading,  timid  sort  of  wayt  which  was  totally 
unlike  her.  "If  you  don't  like  it  here,  Loic/'  she  mur- 
mured, throwing  her  arms  about  him,  "you  must  tell  me, 
and  I  will  take  you  away  at  once." 

He  forced  a  laugh.  "Now,  look  here,  Mamma,  you 
mustn't  worry  about  me.  I'll  be  as  right  as  a  trivet 
when  the  first  strangeness  is  past;  and  remember,  I  shall 
write  to  you  every  day  and  tell  you  how  well  I'm  getting 
along,"  he  concluded,  rather  lamely,  nervously  clearing 
his  throat. 

His  mother's  graceful,  elegant  figure  looked  to  him 
oddly  out  of  place  in  the  private  salon  of  the  big,  gaudy 
hotel,  where  they  sat  close  to  each  other  on  a  hideous 
crimson  satin  sofa,  and  he  suddenly  noticed  how  terribly 
white  and  shaken  she  was.  He  tried  to  smile  as  brightly 
as  usual,  and  to  preserve  his  ordinary  jaunty  air,  but  his 
efforts  in  that  direction  were  not  crowned  with  success, 
and  he  turned  impatiently  away,  for  tears,  of  which  he 
felt  dreadfully  ashamed,  were  actually  struggling  to  his 
eyes.  She,  poor  woman,  was  gradually  working  herself 
into  a  panic.  "I  can't  bear  it,  Loic!"  she  cried  at  last, 
throwing  her  arms  once  more  about  him.  "I  was  a 
fool  to  insist  upon  this  ridiculous  plan!  Come,  we  will 
go  back  at  once  to  Kergoat!  I'll  write  from  there  to 

1 86 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

the  Commandant  and  to  the  Minister  of  Marine.  Come, 
my  darling,  my  darling,  don't  stay  in  this  vile  place, 
where  you  will  be  maltreated  and  driven  like  a  slave — 
beaten,  perhaps,  also,  God  knows!" 

In  spite  of  his  almost  furious  desire  to  do  as  she  said, 
Loic  straightened  himself  up  manfully.  "Nonsense, 
Mamma!"  he  said,  with  surprising  firmness;  "surely  you 
don't  want  me  to  show  the  white  feather  and  turn  tail 
like  that.  Every  boy  has  got  to  leave  home  sooner  or 
later;  it's  really  ridiculous  to  make  such  a  fuss." 

He  scarcely  knew  what  he  felt ;  his  ears  were  buzzing 
and  his  hands  were  cold  as  ice.  He  shut  his  eyes  for  a 
fleeting  second. 

Gene  vie  ve  was  now  quite  beside  herself,  and  absolutely 
maddened  by  his  unexpected  resistance;  in  an  agony  of 
grief  she  pressed  her  wet  face  against  his.  "Oh,  Loic!" 
she  pleaded,  in  the  same  broken  accents;  "don't  leave 
me;  you're  all  I've  got,  all  I  love!  Why  are  you  so  cruel 
to  me?  Is  it  because  I  have  been  harsh  sometimes  and 
you  are  glad  now  to  have  the  chance  of  punishing  me  ?" 

Loic  said  nothing.  A  very  slight  tremor  went  over 
his  determined  face;  surely  these  reproaches  were  filling 
the  measure  unnecessarily  full,  even  to  overflowing.  He 
moved  his  lips,  attempting  to. say  something,  but  she 
did  not  even  notice  this,  and  went  on  in  a  rapid,  passion- 
ate voice:  "For  goodness'  sake,  Loic,  don't  be  stubborn! 
I  did  not  realize  how  hard  it  would  be.  What  does  the 
navy  need  with  you  ?  But  I  want  you,  I  cannot  live  with- 
out you,  and  you've  got  to  go  home  with  me — you've  got 
to,  that's  all  there  is  about  it!  I'll  give  you  anything  you 
want — anything!  You'll  do  just  as  you  please!"  she  con- 
cluded, with  increasing  and  ungovernable  excitement,  beat- 
ing her  hands  in  the  air,  wild  with  agitation,  and  bursting 
into  fresh  sobs. 

187 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

Loic  was  growing  desperate,  but  he  forced  himself  to 
look  quite  calm,  feeling  that  his  only  chance  was  to  re- 
main, if  possible,  unmoved.  "  I  cannot  run  away,  Mamma 
— it  would  be  desertion ,  I  already  belong  to  the  navy. 
You  know  that  as  well  as  I  do!"  he  exclaimed,  conquering 
as  best  he  could  the  sudden  passion  of  pity  for  her  which 
threatened  to  drive  everything  else  away  from  his  mind. 

"Nonsense!  You're  talking  sheer  rubbish!  Deser- 
tion! What  insufferable  twaddle!  It's  me  you  will  de- 
sert. But  I  see — you're  glad  to  get  rid  of  me!  I  never 
dreamed  it  would  hurt  me  so  to  leave  you  here!  I  never 
imagined  you  could  really  be  so  cruel,  so  inhuman,  so  for- 
getful of  all  I  have  done  for  you,  sacrificed  for  you,  you 
unnatural,  heartless  boy!" 

Loic  stood  up  and  took  hold  of  both  her  slender  hands 
as  gently  and  tenderly  as  he  could,  and  for  a  moment 
looked  into  her  eyes.  He  felt  now  absolutely  resolved 
to  stay,  not  only  because  he  knew  that  run  away  he 
could  not  without  absolute  dishonor,  but  also  because 
he  realized  perfectly  well,  knowing  her  as  he  did,  that 
should  he  yield  to  this  new  whim  of  hers  she  would  be 
the  first  later  on  to  reproach  him  with  his  own  weakness 
in  so  doing.  Such  things  on  a  smaller  scale  had  hap- 
pened before  between  them. 

"My  dear  Mamma,"  he  said,  coaxingly,  "I'm  aston- 
ished at  you!  You  must  be  reasonable,  and  remember 
that  you  made  me  promise  to  behave  myself,  and  that 
you're  making  it  very  difficult."  The  poor  boy  was 
really  on  the  verge  of  his  self-control,  but  with  great 
force  of  purpose  he  continued  to  pet  and  cajole  her  just 
as  when  in  other  days  he  had  been  desirous  to  obtain  a 
favor;  nevertheless,  the  intense  feeling  of  cold  reserve 
which  dominated  all  his  actions  prevented  him  from 
being  entirely  natural,  and  she  grew  furious. 

188 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

"Oh,  so  this  is  the  way.  is  it?"  she  cried,  savagely.  "I 
thought  you  were  becoming  tired  of  my  love  and  of  poor, 
tame  Kergoat!  You  long  to  be  free  from  me  and  my 
idiotic  tenderness  and  care,  so  as  to  swagger  around 
quite  unhampered;  you  are  burning  to  become  a  traineur 
de  sabre,  a  casseur  de  cceurs,  you  little  wretch !  '  And 
she  began  to  pace  the  floor  in  uncontrollable  excite- 
ment. 

"Now,  Mother,  I  can't  bear  this  any  longer,"  he  pro- 
tested, in  a  harsh,  unboyish  voice,  looking  straight  at 
the  blurred,  rain-whipped  windows.  "I  can't  bear  it — 
I  can't  bear  it,  and  if  you  go  on  like  that  I — I  shall — " 

He  stopped,  clinching  his  hands  together,  for  the  sobs 
which  he  had  valiantly  choked  down  were  again  rising 
in  his  throat.  Instantly  he  heard  a  silky  rustle,  as 
Genevieve,  with  a  smothered  exclamation  of  pity,  glided 
to  her  knees  before  him,  for  now,  suddenly,  she  knew 
how  cruelly  she  was  herself  treating  him,  and  how  un- 
justly. "My  own  darling!"  she  murmured,  imploringly; 
"pardon  me,  Loic;  I'll  be  good  now;  I'll  do  just  what  you 
want,  my  brave,  brave  boy  !" 

She  held  him  tightly  in  her  arms,  fondling  him  like 
a  baby,  but  Loic,  who  had ^  grown  deadly  pale,  hastily 
disengaged  himself,  went  over  to  the  window,  threw  it 
open,  and  leaned  far  out.  The  strong,  cold  sea- air  saved 
him  from  utter  breakdown,  and  when,  almost  at  once,  he 
turned  back  into  the  room,  he  had  partly  conquered  his 
agitation. 

The  rest  was  comparatively  easy,  for  now  Genevieve, 
subdued  and  quite  exhausted  too,  gave  him  but  little 
trouble,  and  after  a  silent  and  hurried  dinner,  for  which, 
of  course,  neither  had  any  appetite,  he  accompanied  her 
to  the  station  and  saw  her  off  on  her  return  trip  to  Ker- 
goat; then,  escorted  by  Kadoc — whom  she  had  left  be- 

189 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

hind  to  look  after  him  for  a  day  or  two — he  set  out  to 
rejoin  the  training-ship. 

It  was  still  raining  hard,  the  ground  glistened  with 
liquid  mud  under  the  wavering  rays  of  the  street  lamps, 
and  in  the  darkness  of  the  cab  Loic  felt  the  sharp  night 
wind  on  his  face,  down  which  a  few  large  tears  were  run- 
ning, despite  all  his  efforts  to  drive  them  back  to  their 
sources.  For  once  he  was  utterly  unnerved,  as  it  was 
no  wonder  he  should  be  after  such  a  scene,  and  in  this 
mood  he  wondered  with  that  painful  wonder  that  comes 
upon  us  when,  having  chosen  one  path,  we  marvel  whither 
the  other  would  have  led,  how  it  would  have  been  with 
him  if  he  had  followed  his  mother  home,  that  home  for 
which  he  suddenly  yearned  so  passionately  that  it  was 
all  he  could  do  to  restrain  the  overwhelming  temptation 
to  turn  back,  even  now,  towards  the  station  and  take 
the  first  train  leaving  Brest. 

With  clinched  teeth  and  beating  heart,  he  forced  him- 
self to  look  at  the  sordid  pageant  of  the  foggy  town. 
The  shriek  of  a  steam-siren  made  him  start  violently,  and 
he  realized  the  extraordinary  tension  of  his  nerves.  Sure- 
ly there  was  something  peculiarly  depressing  and  deso- 
late in  the  very  atmosphere  of  this  dismal  place! 

Slowly  the  steaming  horses  trotted  up  the  slippery 
incline  which  skirts  that  deep,  black  bay  which  is  the 
war-port,  and  which  is  framed  by  interminable  granite 
fortifications,  all  grimly  similar  in  their  uncompromising 
ugliness,  and  by  line  upon  line  of  cannon.  Above  them 
loomed  the  citadel,  the  Chateau  de  Brest,  and  over  the 
massive  walls  of  the  deserted  arsenal  came  the  low,  rum- 
bling murmur  of  the  distant  streets,  cut  here  and  there  by 
the  sound  of  some  drunken  sailor  song  or  fierce,  low- 
voiced  quarrel  floating  up  from  Recouvrance  above  the 
dark  ramparts.  All  this  was  not  encouraging;  neither 

190 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

was  the  parley  at  the  gates,  where  the  permission  de 
dix  heures  had  to  be  produced  in  order  to  obtain  en- 
trance, and  when,  at  last,  he  was  for  the  first  time  stretch- 
ed in  his  little  bunk  on  board,  all  things  past  and  present 
merged  at  once  into  a  profound  homesickness  and  misery 
which  seemed  to  prove  him  still  humiliatingly  young — a 
mere  child,  after  all. 

The  sensation  of  loneliness — of  intense,  appalling  lone- 
liness— which  he  felt  that  night,  gave  way  by  fits  and 
starts  to  an  ardor  of  boyish  delight  and  interest  in  his 
new  life,  duties,  and  dignities  which  at  length  almost  en- 
tirely prevailed.  Not  that  his  happiness  was  by  any 
means  without  alloy,  for  there  were  still  many  moments 
when  all  his  fine  plans  and  prides  became  but  as  a  crum- 
bling sand  foundation,  on  which  his  changed  personality 
vainly  strove  to  find  a  foothold,  for  even  his  old  inde- 
pendence and  dauntlessness  here  played  him  false  by 
making  him  unpopular  and  dragging  him  into  innu- 
merable scrapes,  with  the  consequent  grudges  and  heart- 
burnings. Soon,  also,  the  harsh  discipline  to  which  he 
was  subjected,  as  was,  alas,  to  be  expected,  became  so 
disagreeable  to  him  that  his  whole  life  lay  in  shadow. 
He  was  not  one  to  sink  under  the  first  blow,  to  be  dis- 
couraged by  the  first  difficulty,  but  he  found  himself 
face  to  face  with  an  undreamed-of  situation,  a  situation 
bristling  with  perils  for  such  a  nature  as  his,  and  which 
was  rendered  more  awkward  by  his  mother's  new  and 
extraordinary  course  of  action. 

Separated  from  her  darling,  and  freed  from  the  im- 
mediate influence  which  the  boy's  irresistible  charm  and 
magnetism  rendered  so  potent,  she  suddenly  took  it  into 
her  head  to  develop  into  a  Spartan  parent,  and  her  let- 
ters— which  just  then  should  have  been  especially  tender, 
encouraging,  and  cheering — were  written  in  such  a  strain 

191 


THE    TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

that  they  threw  Loic  into  a  state  of  acute  and  unreason- 
ing irritation.  Moreover,  Madame  de  Kergoat  saw  fit  to 
pour  an  absolute  avalanche  of  similar  communications 
upon  the  unfortunate  lad's  superior  officers,  from  the 
Commandant  down,  enjoining  them,  one  and  all,  to  dis- 
play the  utmost  severity  towards  her  "  sadly  spoiled 
child,"  thus  antagonizing  and  exasperating  them  against 
the  boy  quite  as  completely  as  she  did  Loic  against  her- 
self. 

He  wrote  to  her,  imploring  her  to  leave  him  in  peace 
— this  was  more  politely  stated — but  the  true  burden  of 
his  song  was  that  he  now  intended  to  stand  or  fall  alone, 
that  he  had  had  enough  of  petticoat  government,  and  that 
she  was  ruining  his  chances  and  robbing  him  of  his  ship- 
mates' regard  and  of  his  own  self-respect.  He  further 
explained  that  he  would  end  by  giving  up  endeavoring 
to  do  what  was  right  if  she  always  suspected  him  of 
doing  what  was  wrong;  also,  he  did  not  forget  to  remind 
her,  in  conclusion,  that  his  present  plight  was  of  her  own 
making,  and  that,  therefore,  her  continual  interference 
was  not  only  entirely  prejudicial  to  his  interests,  but  ex- 
tremely unjust. 

This  epistle  threw  Genevieve  into  one  of  those  rages 
that  only  the  truth  can  inspire,  and,  sitting  down  im- 
mediately at  her  desk,  she  wrote  with  her  bitterest  pen 
a  reply  so  unwise  and  cruelly  worded  that,  at  the  mo- 
ment of  sending  it  off,  struck  by  one  of  her  sudden  and 
unaccountable  pangs  of  remorse,  she  slipped  into  its 
scented  envelope  a  check  for  a  thousand  francs,  as  a 
salve  to  the  wounds  she  had  deliberately  inflicted.  The 
letter,  once  despatched,  however,  that  peculiar,  uneasy 
desire  for  perpetual  meddling  which  possesses  so  many 
feminine  souls  burned  again  through  hers,  a  fierce  long- 
ing to  shake  him  as  she  used  to  do  when  one  of  her  fits 

192 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

of  anger  seized  her  like  the  hot  fire  of  an  ague.  Her 
now  unoccupied  surplus  energies  gathered  in  her  like 
swollen  waters  behind  a  dam,  and  an  immediate  catas- 
trophe was  only  averted  by  the  fact  that  her  favorite 
sister  having  fallen  seriously  ill,  during  a  short  visit  to 
Kergoat,  she  was  unable  personally  to  carry  her  wraths, 
indignations,  and  extravagant  recriminations  to  Brest. 

Indeed,  during  the  time  she  was  on  duty  in  the  sick- 
room, matters  began  to  mend  for  Loic.  Left  to  himself, 
his  light-hearted  gayety  returned  to  him,  he  got  fairly 
upon  his  feet,  his  fine  spirit  and  singularly  attractive 
personality  absolutely  pervaded  the  big,  floating  school, 
and,  as  was  bound  eventually  to  happen,  he  became  the 
leader  and  the  hero  of  the  most  turbulent  of  his  mess- 
mates. Most  of  these  boys  were  the  sons  of  well-to-do 
families,  and  only  a  dozen  or  so  of  aristocratic  descent — 
two  or  three  very  much  so  indeed,  Bretons  these,  bearing 
beautiful  names  a  thousand  years  old,  which  were  con- 
stantly turning  up  in  their  history  books,  much  to  their 
delight  and  pride — but  all  alike  acknowledged  his  sway, 
and  many  were  only  too  glad  to  form  a  sort  of  adulatory 
Court  about  this  handsome  young  Marquis,  so  eager  to 
scatter  gold  about  him  and  so  keen  for  the  chance  of  a 
daring  frolic.  Having  already  become  partially  recon- 
ciled to  his  lot,  doubtless  his  uproarious  exuberance  would 
have  simmered  down  after  a  while,  and  all  would  have 
been  permanently  well  with  him,  but,  alas,  his  mother's 
interference  again  built  a  wall  across  his  path.  Her 
capricious  rule  had  wellnigh  destroyed  in  him  both  the 
power  of  and  the  desire  for  the  concentration  of  his 
very  keen  intelligence  and  uncommon  abilities  upon  hard 
work.  This  in  itself  was  no  insuperable  difficulty,  and 
there  were  those  to  deal  with  it  who  repeatedly  repri- 
manded and  even  severely  punished  him — this  he  could 

193 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

endure,  but  not  the  epistolary  rages  of  his  mortified  and 
furious  mother,  when  she  heard  of  his  misdeeds  in  the 
Borders  half-yearly  reports,  and  her  perpetual  accusa- 
tion of  him  to  his  instructors. 

The  mentally  blind  cannot  be  made  to  see  in  a  moment 
as  by  a  miracle,  and  a  woman  capable  of  doing  all  she 
had  done  to  bring  about  such  a  result  was  surely  in- 
capable of  seeing  how  entirely  it  was  her  own  fault. 
She  really  lost  all  control  of  herself,  and  deported  her- 
self, one  way  and  another,  in  so  maddening  a  fashion 
that  she  finally  drove  the  already  rebellious  boy  to  open 
revolt. 

Had  either  Gaidik  or  Count  Rene  been  aware  of  what 
was  happening,  the  final  catastrophe  might  yet  have 
been  averted,  but,  with  the  usual  in  aptness  of  things,  it 
chanced  that  both  were  at  that  time  far  away,  Gaidik 
travelling  with  her  husband  through  the  Orient,  Count 
Re'ne'  on  a  shooting  tour  near  the  frontier  of  Siberia,  and, 
therefore,  both  quite  out  of  reach  of  any  appeal  from  Loic 
had  he  been  minded  to  seek  assistance. 

"Like  my  luck!"  the  poor  boy  thought;  "Uncle  Re'ne' 
was  always  devilish  fond  of  me,  in  spite  of  his  grand, 
cold  airs  when  I  had  displeased  him,  and  he  would  have 
seen  me  righted.  My  Gaid,  too,  was  forced  to  go  away, 
whether  she  liked  it  or  not,  and  now  I'm  all  alone,  and 
I  know  I'm  sure  to  end  by  doing  something  awful  if 
things  don't  alter  pretty  soon." 

As  a  natural  result  of  such  cogitations,  he  grew  wilder 
and  more  reckless  day  by  day.  His  superior  officers 
could  not  help  liking  him,  although  he  gave  them,  as 
the  saying  goes,  du  fil  a  retordre;  they  could  not  help 
admiring  his  straightforwardness  of  demeanor,  even  when 
he  was  at  his  worst,  and  the  plucky  manner  in  which  he 
bore  punishment — a  fact  which  went  far  to  win  for  him 

194 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

their  sympathy.  For  one  thing,  he  never  pleaded  ex- 
tenuating circumstances,  as  his  fellows  so  often  did  in 
similar  difficulties.  But  still  his  conduct  was  so  con- 
trary to  all  rules  that  reprimands  grew  more  and  more 
frequent,  more  and  more  harsh,  and  consequently  more 
exasperating  to  the  high-spirited  lad. 

Months  followed  months  in  this  unsatisfactory  fashion. 
Genevieve,  having  accompanied  her  convalescent  sister  to 
some  celebrated  and  ultra-fashionable  baths,  kept  out  of 
the  way,  fortunately,  but  nevertheless  Loic's  sky  dark- 
ened and  grew  more  threatening,  and,  had  it  not  been  for 
the  plucky  manner  in  which  he,  during  a  storm,  rescued 
at  the  peril  of  his  own  life  a  sailor  who  had  fallen  over- 
board from  the  rigging,  it  is  more  than  probable  that 
very  serious  measures  would  have  been  adopted  against 
him  by  the  Commandant.  His  magnificent  courage  soft- 
ened even  that  terrible  martinet's  heart  to  such  an  ex- 
tent that  he  overlooked  several  subsequent  escapades, 
but,  alas,  without  avail.  Thanks  to  Genevieve's  tactless 
and  increasingly  grim  severity,  expressed  by  means  of 
page  upon  page  of  close  writing,  the  end  was  precipitated. 

Several  times  she  wrote  to  him  that  since  he  was  too 
mean-spirited  and  cowardly  to  accept  the  discipline  to 
which  all  proper  young  men  of  his  age  were  subjected, 
she  was  now  determined  to  put  her  earlier  plans  into 
execution,  and  to  consign  him  to  Mettray;  nay,  she  even 
went  so  far  as  to  cause  her  brother  Paul  to  write  him  a 
long  homily,  ending  with  the  pleasing  information  that 
he  would  accompany  his  mother  when  in  a  few  days  she 
came  to  visit  him,  Loic,  and  that  her  ideas  being  entirely 
in  accordance  with  his  own,  he  would  lend  her  his  assist- 
ance in  all  she  proposed  to  do. 

This  was  the  climax!  So  his  mother  had  broken  the 
word  given  to  Gaidik,  and  was  once  more  thinking  of 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

Mettray,  and  she  and  her  precious  brother  were  bent 
upon  dragging  him  there.  Loic's  anger  and  alarm  began 
to  adopt  fantastic  proportions.  Was  he,  Loic  de  Ker- 
goat,  going  to  be  so  tragic  an  ass  as  to  await  coolly  their 
so  graciously  announced  arrival?  His  uncle's  sneering 
face,  detested  from  childhood,  had  become  to  him  the 
image  of  some  implacable  Juggernaut,  and  he  fairly 
shrank  as  he  thought  of  Prince  Paul  as  an  arbiter  of  his 
fate.  It  certainly  put  his  nerves  on  the  raw,  and  shortly 
after  receiving  this  unfortunate  communication,  he  in  a 
moment  of  mad  exasperation  struck  one  of  the  quarter- 
masters on  duty  a  heavy  blow  in  the  face  —  a  grave 
offence  this  time,  and  one  which  carries  with  it  a  serious 
penalty. 

Fully  aware  of  this,  poor  Loic  lost  his  head  at  the  pros- 
pect before  him.  As  soon  as  the  Commandant  was  put 
in  possession  of  the  facts,  it  would  be  all  up  with  him. 
This  time  his  mother  would  descend  upon  him  as  soon 
as  the  news  reached  her,  without  the  possibility  of  per- 
ad venture.  Ah,  would  she  indeed!  He  rushed  to  his 
quarters,  hurriedly  packed  some  of  his  most  useful  be- 
longings into  a  large  hand-bag,  took  all  the  money  he 
possessed  at  the  moment,  and,  with  a  heart  full  of  fore- 
bodings and  a  grim  determination  to  make  a  fresh  start 
and  be  alone  responsible  for  himself  this  time  or  die  in 
the  effort,  he  made  good  his  escape.  This  in  itself  was 
an  exceedingly  dangerous  and  difficult  feat  to  accom- 
plish, but  his  luck  held  for  once,  and  he  did  succeed  in 
evading  even  the  keen  eyes  of  the  sentries,  both  on 
board  and  ashore. 

"No,  by  God!"  he  said  to  himself,  as  he  ran  through 
the  fast-gathering  darkness.  "I'll  not  be  caged  in  Met- 
tray if  I  know  it.  They'll  have  to  catch  me  first,  and  it 
won't  be  an  easy  job." 

196 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

Strange  to  say,  it  did  not  rain  as  it  almost  always 
does  at  Brest,  but  thick,  black  clouds  were  hurrying 
across  the  sky,  and  the  tops  of  the  trees  on  the  Cours 
d'Ajot  were  trying  to  bend  themselves  double  in  obe- 
dience to  the  behests  of  a  furious,  wet  wind  which  was 
smashing  their  leafless  boughs  and  scattering  a  shower 
of  shredded  twigs  in  every  direction.  It  was  quite  dark, 
and  he  was  quite  out  of  breath  when  he  at  last  reached 
the  railway  station,  but  luck  still  held,  for  an  express  to 
Nantes  was  on  the  point  of  starting,  and,  having  bought 
a  ticket  and  secured  a  seat  in  an  empty  compartment, 
he  had  the  intense  relief,  some  ten  minutes  later,  to  see 
the  melancholy  old  seaport  loom  blackly  for  a  few  mo- 
ments against  the  tormented  sky  behind  him,  and  then 
rapidly  vanish  in  the  stormy  gloom. 

He  had  had  the  presence  of  mind  to  snatch  up  a  long 
Inverness  coat  from  his  civilian's  wardrobe  as  he  swiftly 
prepared  to  leave  the  Borda,  thus  covering  his  uniform, 
and,  as  he  was  very  tall  and  manly  for  his  sixteen  years, 
he  looked  like  anything  but  a  runaway  midshipman  as 
he  boarded  the  train,  his  small  travelling-cap  pulled  well 
down  over  his  eyes.  Hardly  could  he  as  yet  realize  that 
he  was  for  the  present,  at  least,  practically  out  of  danger, 
since  having  had  the  rare  good-fortune  to  get  himself  put 
ashore  by  the  bumboat — thanks  to  a  magnificent  pour- 
boire  —  it  was  highly  probable  that  his  disappearance 
was  as  yet  undetected.  Twice  already  he  and  a  couple 
of  other  daring  spirits  had  employed  the  services  of  the 
greedy  bumboatman  in  order  to  spend  an  evening  in 
town  without  permission,  returning  at  the  dead  of  night 
and  climbing  on  board  silently  and  secretly  by  the  main- 
chains,  but  there  was  no  returning  for  him  this  time, 
and  the  present  escapade  was  a  vastly  more  serious 
matter. 

197 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

Quickly  he  exchanged  his  uniform  for  a  suit  of  tweeds, 
made  up  the  former  in  as  small  a  parcel  as  possible, 
weighted  with  his  heavy  sea-boots,  and  heaved  it  out  of 
the  window  into  the  first  considerable  watercourse  cross- 
ed by  the  train.  All  this  was  done  coolly,  cleverly,  and 
unhesitatingly,  on  the  impulse  of  the  moment,  and  then 
he  sat  down  to  commune  with  his  thoughts. 

Whether  at  first  he  quite  knew  what  he  was  to  do  next 
is  doubtful,  but  as  the  express  rushed  along  in  the  teeth 
of  a  regular  winter  gale  he  began  calmly  and  collectedly 
to  mature  his  plans.  His  mother  had  accused  him  of 
cowardice.  Very  well,  he  would  show  her  now  that  he 
was  not  afraid  of  hardships,  and  that  if  he  had  failed  to 
satisfy  the  naval  authorities,  he  was  none  the  less,  on 
occasion,  capable  of  proving  himself  to  be  a  very  good 
sailor.  "If  she  thinks  I  am  coming  back  again,  to  cry 
for  mercy,  she  is  very  much  mistaken,"  he  thought, 
"because  I  am  not.  I  am,  on  the  contrary,  going  away 
from  France — at  once — to-morrow.  It  will  not  be  diffi- 
cult for  me  to  ship  on  some  little  trader  at  Bordeaux,  and 
to  Bordeaux  I'm  going."  And,  surprising  to  state,  at 
this  thought  Loic  recovered  his  wild  spirits,  which  only 
two  or  three  times  during  the  long  succeeding  journey 
gave  way  to  fits  of  deep  melancholy  and  depression,  and 
then  only  when  he  pictured  to  himself  Gaidik's  despair 
when  she  ultimately  heard  of  all  this. 

At  last,  after  a  series  of  exceedingly  shrewdly  con- 
sidered detours  to  cover  his  trail,  he  reached  Bordeaux 
and  put  up  at  a  small  hostelry  situated  in  a  narrow 
street  near  the  harbor,  and  much  frequented  by  the 
captains  of  small  sailing  vessels.  His  room  was  such  as 
the  luxuriously  brought-up  boy  had  never  even  imagined 
a  room  could  be,  and  the  air  of  the  whole  unlovely  region 
was  so  sour  with  foreign  flavors  and  noisome  odors  that 

198 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

he  felt  a  reluctant  shrinking,  and  would  have  brooded 
over  the  sudden  harshness  of  his  fate  had  not  time  pressed. 
But  when  after  nightfall,  having  purchased  an  outfit  and 
got  himself  up  in  the  costume  worn  by  common  sailors, 
he  made  his  way  down  narrow  alleys  and  squalid  streets, 
and  suddenly  found  himself  at  the  water's  edge,  a  change 
came  over  him.  His  spirits  rose,  he  discovered  that  his 
resolution  was  quite  unshaken,  and  as  he  heard  the  slow, 
muffled  bumping  of  boats  against  some  stone  steps  lead- 
ing to  the  basin  he  again  felt  an  extraordinary  eager- 
ness to  be  off  and  away. 

Within  a  few  minutes  of  his  arrival  there  he  noticed 
a  well  -  decked,  square  -  rigged  sailing  vessel  of  the  old 
school,  with  her  name,  Gaston  -  Auger,  written  large  on 
her  high  prow,  moored  to  the  bollards  on  the  quay.  The 
outline  of  the  harbor  behind  its  forest  of  masts  stood  out 
clearly  in  bright  moonshine,  and  the  broad,  silver  rays  cut 
a  wide  swath  of  dazzling  light  through  the  distant  fields 
of  rolling  ultramarine. 

"The  Gaston  -  Auger  would  do  very  well,"  muttered 
Loic,  and  so  he  jumped  lightly  on  her  deck  and  walked 
briskly  up  to  a  short,  dark,  thick-set  personage — evident- 
ly the  skipper — who  was  engaged  in  spurring  on  some 
men  transshipping  cargo  by  outbursts  of  picturesquely 
nautical  profanity. 

"Want  another  hand?"  Loic  said  to  this  agreeable 
mariner,  in  a  purposely  thickened  and  coarsened  utter- 
ance. The  captain  turned  an  eye  like  a  gimlet  upon  his 
interlocutor.  He  had  a  hard  exterior  and  an  unprepos- 
sessing countenance,  but  evidently  knew  his  bearings,  and 
also  gave  the  immediate  impression  of  one  quick  to 
make  up  his  mind. 

"Not  me,"  he  replied,  gruffly,  expectorating  over  the 
rail  with  extreme  precision ,  as  if  to  show  what  he  thought 

199 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

of  such  a  proposal.  "My  crew  is  complete,  and  we're 
weighing  anchor  at  dawn."  Yet  he  continued  to  ex- 
amine Loic  curiously,  for  it  was  not  often  that  he  had 
had  the  chance  of  looking  upon  such  a  volunteer  or  one 
with  the  mark  of  the  salt  element  more  plainly  written 
upon  him. 

"That's  a  pity,"  Loic  remarked,  with  an  indifferent 
shrug  of  his  broad  shoulders,  "because  I'm  ready  and 
willing  to  sign  articles  with  you  for  the  trip,  but  if  you're 
au  complet — "  And  he  artfully  feigned  to  turn  away. 

"Hold  on  there!"  the  captain  grunted,  pointing  a  thick 
finger  towards  the  slim,  blue-jerseyed  figure  of  the  ap- 
plicant, and  shooting  a  singularly  crafty  look  out  of  his 
small,  restless  black  eyes.  "I'm  sailing  from  here  with 
a  full  general  cargo  for  Pernambuco  in  four  hours,  and, 
provided  it's  nothing  underhand  or  criminal  that  brings 
you  here,  I  might  consider  what  you  say." 

He  spoke  with  assumed  distrust,  but  Loic  was  far  too 
sharp  not  to  see  that  he  was  nibbling  at  the  bait,  and 
having,  besides,  no  intention  of  explaining  his  private 
affairs,  he  simply  said  nothing,  and  stood  poised  with 
one  foot  on  the  gang-plank,  as  if  ready  for  instant  de- 
parture. 

"Been  at  sea  before?"  inquired  the  captain  again. 

"Yes,  all  my  life,"  was  the  curt  reply. 

The  skipper  measured  him  slowly  with  his  gimlet  eyes. 
"Makings  of  a  good  sailor,  perhaps,"  he  muttered,  with  a 
gruff  laugh,  which  was  more  growl  than  anything  else. 
"Damn  me!  I've  a  mind  to  give  you  a  chance,"  he 
concluded,  looking  aloft  at  the  rigging,  where  the  run- 
ning tackle  was  being  unbent,  and  then  again  he  violently 
expectorated,  but  this  time  recklessly  upon  his  own 
quarter-deck. 

"Very  well,"   Loic  replied,  indifferently,   suiting  the 

200 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

action  to  the  words  by  leaping  to  the  quay.  "I'll  go 
and  fetch  my  duds." 

"Got  any  papers ?"  the  skipper  bawled  after  him. 

The  new  hand  turned,  and  by  the  light  of  a  big  reflector 
lamp  hung  to  the  bulwarks  looked  his  future  "Com- 
mander" full  in  the  face.  "No,"  he  said,  shortly. 

Early  morning  found  the  Gaston  -  Auger  leaving  the 
coast  of  France  behind  at  a  great  pace.  She  lay  very 
low  on  the  water — for  she  was  heavily  freighted — and 
kicked  up  awkwardly  on  a  following  sea.  Loic,  clad  in 
brand-new  oil-skins,  swayed  easily  to  the  motion,  and 
deftly  coiled  ropes* in  the  most  approved  naval  fashion, 
peering  occasionally  through  an  opalescent  bank  of  fog 
at  his  fast-disappearing  native  land. 

Most  boys  occupying  his  present  unenviable  position 
might  have  given  themselves  up  to  sorrowful  misgivings. 
Not  so  he,  however.  The  knowledge  of  the  irretriev- 
ableness  of  the  step  he  had  taken  stiffened  all  possible 
doubt  and  limpness  out  of  his  composition.  His  eyes 
brightened,  his  lips  curved  in  a  smile  of  triumph,  and  in 
his  heart  of  hearts  he  exulted.  He  had  all  a  healthy 
boy's  appetite  for  adventure,  backed  by  an  unusual 
amount  of  physical  strength  and  endurance,  besides  which 
he  was  determined  to  prove  now,  and  once  for  all,  the 
metal  he  was  made  of.  So  he  took  the  roughness  and 
uncouthness  of  things  in  the  way  of  a  huge  lark. 

Meanwhile  the  crew  of  the  Gaston  -  Auger ,  from  its 
captain  down,  watched  him  covertly  and  greatly  wondered 
what  manner  of  a  creature  they  had  shipped. 

Unsuspected  dangers,  however,  were  lying  in  wait  for 
him.  The  skipper's  coarse  tongue,  for  one  thing,  was 
not  to  his  liking.  Loic,  to  tell  the  truth,  was  no  good 
except  in  command,  and  had  much  ado  to  take  a  blunt 
order  civilly.  The  skipper,  on  the  other  hand,  was  a 

M  201 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

truculent  ruffian,  extraordinarily  foul-mouthed,  besides 
being  one  of  those  Southern  Frenchmen  who  are  born 
demagogues  and  instinctively  hate  an  Aristocrat.  That 
Loic  was  something  of  the  kind  had  soon  become  clear 
to  him;  indeed,  in  spite  of  his  knowledge  of  the  ropes,  it 
was  impossible  to  mistake  this  lad  of  more  than  ordinary 
good  looks  and  strangely  proud  bearing  for  an  ordinary 
sailor  or,  for  the  matter  of  that,  an  ordinary  being,  and 
the  irascible  Bordelais  almost  at  once  began  to  take  in- 
finite pleasure  in  calling  him  roughly  down  whenever 
the  slightest  chance  offered.  Moreover,  the  crew  was 
also  composed  exclusively  of  Marseilles  and  Bordelais — 
a  sorry  race — and  one  and  all  were  ready  to  back  up 
their  captain  in  making  things  interesting  for  VAristo. 

Poor  Loic!  He  had,  as  he  speedily  discovered,  all  the 
ship's  company,  as  well  as  the  captain,  the  mates,  and 
even  the  cabin-boy,  against  him,  and  all  of  them  ugly 
customers  at  that,  and  righting  fit — a  nasty  crowd  to 
tackle.  He  had  been  from  the  first  far  from  eager  to 
advertise  the  fact  that  he  was  a  gentleman — for  that 
would  have  been  to  cause  the  whole  "outfit"  to  flare  up 
like  gunpowder  and  attempt  to  "pull  him  into  tassels," 
as  he  cheerfully  put  it  to  himself;  but  even  if  they  had 
not  once  or  twice  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  gold  repeater 
he  wore  inside  his  broad,  red  woollen  sash,  with  its  crest 
in  dark-blue  enamel,  as  plain  to  read  as  the  nose  on 
one's  face,  every  inch  of  him,  in  spite  of  all  his  efforts, 
so  loudly  proclaimed  the  fact  that  he  played  a  losing 
game. 

This  state  of  things  was  not  a  pleasant  change  from 
the  milk  and  honey  of  his  previous  experiences — even 
the  life  on  the  Borda,  now  that  he  looked  back  upon  it, 
seemed  very  snug  and  pleasant — and  to  have  seen  him 
now  would  have  been  a  considerable  shock  to  his  mother, 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

for  he  was  neither  so  pleasant  to  look  upon  nor  to  as- 
sociate with  as  he  had  been. 

Attired  in  clumsy  thigh -boots,  heavy  blue  trousers,  a 
weird  flannel  shirt,  a  red  clout  wound  round  his  neck, 
and  a  peaked  cap  upon  his  bright  hair,  he  still  managed 
to  remain  startlingly  handsome,  but  there  was  some- 
thing singularly  fierce  in  his  whole  aspect,  and  his  con- 
versation had  become  studded  with  a  host  of  unneces- 
sarily phosphorescent  adjectives.  In  one  word,  the  Head 
of  the  House  of  Kergoat  was  gradually  falling  into  a 
savage  mood  which  found  vent  in  ever-ready  fists  and 
a  brutality  of  deportment  quite  astonishing,  all  the 
more  so  that  the  fight  was  not  equal  between  him  and 
his  numerous  adversaries,  but  here,  as  everywhere  else,  he 
was  not  one  to  knuckle  down. 

The  voyage,  therefore,  was  for  him  a  season  of  constant 
watchfulness.  He  scarcely  dared  to  take  off  his  clothes 
or  to  sleep  quietly,  for  fear  of  being  robbed  of  his  watch 
and  the  money  he  wore  strapped  around  his  waist,  and, 
whether  he  was  hard  at  work — as  the  skipper  took  pre- 
cious good  care  to  keep  him — or  taking  an  occasional 
snatch  of  sorely  needed  rest,  he  was  ever  ready  to  spring 
instantly  upon  the  alert. 

Still,  his  pluck  never  for  a  second  gave  way,  and  such 
was  his  innate  love  of  fighting  that  even  when  the  whole 
lot  of  brutes  were  raging  against  him  he  felt,  comparatively 
speaking,  happy.  He  overlooked  the  fact  that  the  food 
was  vile,  the  biscuit  crawling,  the  water  foul,  the  smells 
of  the  forecastle — where  he  had  his  miserable  little  bunk — 
likely  to  hurt  and  offend  noses  far  less  delicate  than  his 
own,  and  he  would  cheerfully  have  overlooked  much 
more  in  order  to  prove  himself  the  man  he  had  now  de- 
termined to  be,  but  these  continual  slurs,  insults,  and 
sneers  were  less  to  the  proud  -  tempered  lad's  taste,  and 

203 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

he  often  suffered  cruelly,  although  unwilling  to  confess 
it  even  to  himself. 

The  Gaston-  Auger  made  bad  weather  of  it  most  of 
the  time.  From  the  very  outset  the  voyage  was  un- 
propitious,  as  she  had  to  fight  her  way  through  a  regular 
belt  of  storms  before  reaching  the  calmer  waters  of  the 
tropics,  where  a  mist  of  fearful  heat  caught  her,  shutting 
the  sea  for  miles  around  within  a  tense  ring  of  oppression. 
All  day  long  the  air  shimmered  and  danced  on  the  glar- 
ing level,  there  was  no  breath  of  wind  to  blow  out 
the  sails  that  hung  in  dejected  cowls,  and  the  ship  lay 
for  days  on  end,  motionless  on  the  greasy  sea,  which  cir- 
cumstance did  not  improve  the  tempers  of  her  crew. 

One  morning,  after  a  most  unsatisfactory  night  of  such 
creeping  and  crawling,  the  captain,  standing  at  the  foot 
of  the  foremast,  was  staring  sleepily  ahead,  the  mate,  who 
had  the  wheel,  was  nodding  and  blinking  at  nothing,  and 
the  men,  in  a  state  of  general  demoralization ,  were  sulkily 
crouching  in  the  most  slovenly  manner  all  over  the  dingy 
deck,  when  Loic,  who  had  gone  below  for  a  moment, 
came  up  again,  carrying  a  little  tin  box  containing  his 
sewing-tackle.  Silently  he  sat  down  on  a  coil  of  ropes 
and  began  to  mend  a  shirt — for  Loic,  whatever  the  weather, 
the  circumstances,  or  the  difficulties,  was  always  ex- 
quisitely neat  and  well-groomed.  His  steady  gray  eyes 
intent  on  the  newly  acquired  accomplishment  of  sewing, 
his  supple  fingers  plying  the  needle  with  a  nimbleness  a 
tailor  might  have  envied,  he  soon  began  to  whistle  a 
jaunty  tune. 

A  sullen  ground-swell  was  rolling  the  seas  into  smooth 
hills  and  valleys  beneath  the  unrelenting  sky,  and  there 
was  that  mysterious  something  in  the  atmosphere  which 
should  have  bidden  the  dullest  being  to  prepare  for  dan- 
ger of  some  kind,  but  the  wretched  lad  had  by  now 

204 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

grown  so  used  to  dangers  of  all  sorts  that  he  gave  not  a 
thought  to  the  immediate  future,  and,  as  a  matter  of 
fact,  was  thinking  of  Gaidik,  to  whom  he  had  written  a 
long  explanatory  letter  before  leaving  Bordeaux,  and 
who  was,  as  ever,  the  focus  of  all  that  was  good  and  loving 
in  him.  Moreover,  he  had  not  been  quite  so  bullied  and 
maltreated  of  late,  for,  to  tell  the  truth,  his  mates  were 
beginning  to  fight  rather  shy  of  this  grim-visaged  boy, 
so  different  from  themselves,  who,  when  fully  roused, 
was  as  indomitable  and  savage  as  a  bull -dog.  Not  so 
the  skipper,  however,  who  had  steadily  worked  himself 
into  a  frenzy  of  hatred  against  his  bete  noire,  and,  his 
temper  being  particularly  raw  just  then,  he  deliberately 
walked  towards  Loic  and  stirred  him  from  his  dreams 
with  a  heavily  booted  foot  of  quite  enormous  size,  in- 
quiring with  expert  profanity  by  what  right  he  disturbed 
his,  the  skipper's,  ears  with  his  damned  whistling. 

"Because  it  suits  me!"  Loic  cried,  red  as  fire  beneath 
his  brown  tan.  "Aren't  you  going  to  give  me  a  rest?" 
(Allez  VOMS  me  ficher  la  paix,  a  la  fin?) 

Apparently  the  captain  was  not  inclined  to  do  so,  for 
with  another  vicious  kick  he  sent  the  little  tin  box  flying 
all  over  the  deck,  scattering  as  it  went  its  entire  contents 
into  the  scuppers.  "If  you  deafen  me  with  any  more 
of  your  infernal  piping,"  he  growled,  in  his  dirty  beard, 
"  I'll  beat  you  to  a  jelly,  and  thank  you  for  the  chance, 
you  cursed  Aristocrat.  And  now  get  forrard  and  clean  the 
foc'sle  head  and  fore-deck!" 

With  a  quick  in  drawing  of  the  breath,  Loic  jumped  up. 
"You  swine!"  he  said  through  his  teeth.  "By  God,  I'll 
end  by  leaving  my  marks  on  you!" 

The  captain — a  coward,  like  all  bullies — instantly  whip- 
ped out  his  revoiver.  "None  of  that,  damn  you,  or  I'll 
shoot  you  full  of  holes  instead  of  beating  you,  you — " 

205 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

The  epithet  was  so  vile  that  the  boy  lost  his  head,  there 
was  a  rush,  a  dodge,  a  scuffle,  a  bullet  whistled  past 
Loic's  ear,  missing  him  by  a  hair's-breadth,  and  the  re- 
volver was  his,  to  be  sent  the  next  instant  spinning  over- 
board into  the  sea.  Immediately  he  followed  up  this 
success  by  an  assault  from  both  hands  and  feet  most 
artistically  delivered,  and,  trained  as  he  was  by  a  number 
of  recent  fights  for  his  very  life,  it  would  have  gone  very 
hard  with  the  burly  skipper  had  it  not  been  for  the  as- 
sistance of  the  crew,  who  with  the  quickness  of  wild- 
cats sprang  to  the  rescue. 

This  reinforcement  put  effective  resistance  out  of  the 
question,  for  some  caught  an  arm,  others  a  leg,  while 
the  good  captain,  gripping  him  by  the  throat,  attempted 
to  throttle  him.  Beside  himself  with  rage,  he  strug- 
gled like  a  demented  creature;  how  he  fought  that 
fight  he  never  afterwards  remembered,  but  three,  men 
lay  upon  the  ground  before  it  had  lasted  many  seconds, 
and  the  mate  was  glaring  at  him  from  two  half-shut 
eyes,  wiping  the  blood  from  his  mouth  as  he  did  so.  At 
last,  by  the  united  efforts  of  the  remaining  gang,  he  was 
bound  up  hand  and  foot  with  new  Manila  rope  and 
flung  down  an  open  hatch  into  the  stinking  depths  of 
the  hold. 

There  he  was  left  alone  for  the  time  being,  with  his 
thoughts,  a  broken  rib,  knuckles  cut  to  the  bone,  and  a 
burning  thirst,  lashed  up  beyond  all  chance  of  escape — 
if  escape  had  been  possible — and  stifled  by  the  intolerable 
fetid  heat  of  this  abode  of  rats  and  vermin. 
•  There  are  not  many  who  would  not,  at  least,  have 
loudly  cried  for  mercy  were  they  to  find  themselves  in 
such  a  plight,  but  Loic  has  been  very  badly  described 
in  these  pages  if  it  seems  incredible  to  state  that  rage 
was  just  then  still  uppermost  in  his  mind,  and  such  a 

206 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

rage  that  it  threw  all  else — even  excruciating  physical 
pain — completely  in  the  shade. 

"Cowards!  Cowards!  Cowards!"  he  yelled,  at  the 
top  of  his  lungs — thus  greatly  increasing  his  thirst  and  ex- 
haustion— "you'd  murder  me,  would  you  ?  You  hounds!" 
he  cried  again.  "I  wish  I  could  kill  the  whole  crew  of 
you,  and  I'll  do  it,  too,  if  ever  I  get  the  chance!"  La- 
borious inch  by  laborious  inch  he  worked  himself,  in  spite 
of  his  bonds,  along  the  reeking  planks  nearer  to  the  dim 
light  from  overhead,  yelling  with  all  his  might,  "I'd  like 
to  tell  you  what  I  think  of  your  notions  of  fair  play!" 
He  was  bleeding  profusely  from  a  cut  on  the  forehead, 
and  another  gash  oozed  amid  the  grime  of  his  cheek. 
Above,  a  mob  of  men,  sulky,  sullen,  and  afraid,  stood 
round  the  coamings  of  the  hatch  listening  to  the  defiant 
words  which  rose  towards  them  through  the  thick  atmos- 
phere from  that  place  of  torment,  and  wondered  at  the 
grit  of  their  victim,  still  fighting-mad,  though  the  ills  of 
his  prison  must  have  gripped  every  inch  of  his  battered 
body. 

Gradually,  however,  the  infuriated  yells  ceased,  and 
to  Loic  the  whole  affray  began  to  assume  the  proportions 
of  a  nightmare — he  could  riot  as  yet  realize  that  men 
could  display  such  barbaric  savagery.  And  yet  it  was 
no  dream;  the  rats  that  scampered  over  his  prostrate 
body  and  the  pain  from  his  broken  rib  assured  him  of 
the  grim  reality  of  the  situation.  Hour  followed  hour, 
the  blazing  day  was  replaced  by  a  baking  and  breathless 
night,  and  thirst  and  fever  so  overpowered  him  that  it 
was  only  by  an  heroic  effort  of  will  that  he  prevented  him- 
self from  at  last  giving  way  and  shrieking  aloud  for 
help. 

More  than  once  he  sank  into  a  half  -  conscious  state, 
during  which  the  form  of  Gaidik  seemed  to  bend  over 

207 


THE    TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

him,  her  fresh,  cool  lips  to  breathe  upon  him  respite  from 
his  tortures,  her  rounded  arms  to  pillow  his  throbbing 
head,  and  this  blessed  illusion  alone  preserved  him  from 
the  utter  collapse  of  reason. 

Towards  noon  on  the  next  day  the  mate  came  down 
to  him,  accompanied  by  two  sailors  to  guard  from  further 
harm  his  precious  carcass,  as  Loic's  strength  had  since 
the  previous  day  attained  a  sort  of  mystic  and  legendary 
fame;  but,  alas,  this  formidable  adversary  was  by  now  a 
harmless  wreck  of  his  yesterday's  self,  and  even  that 
callous  sea-dog  bent  down  and  looked  at  him  by  the 
light  of  the  flickering  lantern  he  carried  with  a  frightened 
face. 

"Sacre  nom  d'un  Chienr  he  muttered.  "If  we  don't 
bring  him  out  of  this  he'll  be  stitched  up  within  twenty- 
four  hours  and  dropped  over  to  make  a  hole  in  the 
water — that's  the  cold -drawn  fact."  It  was  the  only 
cold  thing  just  then  in  that  pestilential  hole,  for  the  men, 
as  they  lifted  their  victim  and  hoisted  him  out  of  it, 
carrying  him  as  best  they  could  between  them,  were 
bathed  in  perspiration  as  if  emerging  from  a  shower- 
bath. 

To  be  sure,  it  would  not  have  taken  many  more  such 
jarrings  and  jostlings  to  send  Loic  away  from  all  this 
misery  to  the  great  blue  mystery  that  lies  beyond,  and 
the  captain  gave  a  low,  apprehensive  whistle  as  he  saw 
him  borne  past,  lividly  pale  with  pain  and  shock,  but 
game  still  to  the  backbone,  uttering  not  a  word  of  com- 
plaint, and  with  sunken,  glittering  eyes  flashing  grim 
hatred  at  him. 

In  spite  of  all  his  courage  and  endurance,  Loic  felt  at 
times  during  the  last  days  of  that  terrible  journey  an 
infinite  pity  for  himself.  His  venture  had  been  one  long 
hardship  since  he,  hitherto  the  pampered  darling  of  the 

208 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

Fates,  had  started  upon  it  with  no  resource  save  his  fists. 
Its  only  redeeming  point  hitherto  had  been  that  he  was 
at  sea,  for  that  capricious  mistress  had  wrapped  herself 
into  his  being  from  earliest  childhood  in  a  way  too  strong 
to  be  expressed,  and  now,  like  many  another  dearly  be- 
loved mistress,  this  one  was  going — or  so  he  thought — 
to  prove  his  undoing. 

In  a  hospital,  with  everything  at  hand  that  anti- 
septic surgery  could  provide,  with  highly  trained  at- 
tendants about  him,  his  case  would  still  have  proved 
serious  enough,  but  there,  among  those  filthy  surround- 
ing, with  no  other  care  than  the  occasional  attendance 
of  savage-hearted,  resentful  sailors,  it  was  practically 
hopeless.  In  that  sweltering  air  of  the  tropics,  tainted 
with  all  manner  of  dangerous  germs,  where  a  mere 
scratch  may  take  weeks  to  heal,  the  boy  struggled  wearily 
with  death,  emaciated,  white  as  chalk,  but  courageous 
as  ever.  "I'm  close  on  the  peg-out!"  he  said  to  himself, 
winking  feebly;  "but  maybe  I'll  win  through  yet  and 
get  my  revenge." 

The  heat  was  exceptionally  stifling  in  the  cubby-hole 
in  which  he  lay,  and  sweat  continually  dripped  from 
him,  while  the  bitter  reek  from  the  neighboring  'tween- 
deck  came  in  to  him  unchecked.  This  he  felt,  more  than 
anything  else,  was  gnawing  away  his  remnant  of  strength, 
and  with  aching  chest  and  sore  from  head  to  foot,  he 
waited  doggedly  until  perchance  the  captain  chose  to 
come  and  give  him  his  coup  de  grdce,  in  order  to  throw 
him  to  the  fishes,  and  thus  save  himself  from  the  dangers 
of  an  inquest.  His  watch  and  money  had  been  stolen 
during  his  sleep  or  unconsciousness — he  did  not  know 
which — and  he  could  not  even  ascertain  the  flight  of 
those  pitiless  hours. 

Nor  were  his  sufferings  the  quick  things  of  a  few  hours, 

209 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

or  even  of  a  day  or  two,  and  when  at  last,  on  a  velvet- 
black  night,  with  only  a  handful  of  stars  showing  in  its 
depths  like  dazzling  diamond  flakes,  the  Gaston-Auger 
made  Pernambuco,  Loic  was  too  weak  to  turn  his  head  on 
his  dirty  pillow.  Fortunately  for  him,  he  had  lapsed  into 
a  state  of  blank  unconsciousness. 

Slowly  the  night  dragged  through,  and  by  degrees  the 
sable  pall  thinned,  the  sea  grew  silvery  gray,  then  of  a  deli- 
cate sulphur  yellow,  and  then  the  great  disk  of  the  rising 
sun,  like  a  crimson  coal,  leaped  above  the  brightly  glowing 
horizon  just  as  the  Gaston-Auger  glided  into  a  harbor 
of  glassy  water  and  reached  anchorage ;  and  more  slowly, 
much  more  slowly,  Loic  awoke  to  the  knowledge  of  exist- 
ence again,  and  found  a  Sister  of  the  Order  of  St.  Vincent 
de  Paul  bending  over  him  where  he  lay  comfortably  ban- 
daged and  pillowed  in  a  long,  whitewashed  hospital  ward. 


CHAPTER   XI 

Said  Fire  to  Ice,  "  I  am  sorry!" 

And  Ice  replied,  "No,  I  am  wrong!" 

So  then  they  embraced  with  much  ardor  and  haste 
And — found  it  the  same  old  song. 

IN  her  hotel  sitting-room  at  Colombo,  Gaidik  d'Aspre- 
mont  was  sitting  alone.  She  had  passed  the  longest 
months  that  she  had  ever  passed,  or  would  ever  be  likely 
to  pass,  since  she  had  last  seen  Loic  previous  to  her  de- 
parture for  the  Far  East — the  longest,  the  most  anxious, 
the  most  nerve-wearing. 

Could  she  regard  him  as  quite  safe  now  that  he  was 
matriculated  on  the  training-ship  ?  Again  and  again  she 
had  asked  herself  that  question,  again  and  again  she 
had  had  to  leave  the  answer  undecided  between  warring 
hope  and  fear.  During  all  that  time  she  had  more  or 
less  counted  the  slow  minutes  as  she  drove  or  rode  over 
hill  and  dale,  or  was  f£ted,  admired,  and  entertained  by 
all  the  great  potentates  of  the  Orient,  and  now,  at  last, 
almost  convinced  that  her  forebodings  were  folly,  and 
inclined  to  be  incensed  at  her  perversity  in  thus  tortur- 
ing herself,  she  was  on  her  homeward  trip,  thrilling  with 
joy  at  the  prospect  of  their  approaching  reunion. 

She  had  just  returned  from  dining  en  grand  gala  with 
the  Governor  of  Ceylon,  and  jewels  glittered  upon  her 
from  the  top  of  her  obstinate  little  head  to  the  hem 
of  her  long  lace  train,  as  she  eagerly  rose  to  take  from  the 
hands  of  her  courier  a  mass  of  letters  just  arrived.  The 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

first  envelope  which  she  opened  contained  a  dozen 
leaves  torn  from  a  pocket-book  and  written  with  a  strange 
tremor  and  shakiness,  in  pencil.  Her  throat  became 
suddenly  dry,  her  heart  pounded,  and  her  knees  all  but 
knocked  together  as  she  rapidly  ran  her  eyes  over  the 
blurred,  slanting  lines,  while  a  cold  shiver  shook  her  in 
spite  of  the  warm  fragrance  of  the  night  pouring  in  at 
the  windows — shook  her  till  her  diamonds  sparkled  like 
spirts  of  flame.  Then  she  ran  across  the  immense  salon, 
and,  opening  her  husband's  dressing-room  door,  called  out 
to  him  in  a  voice  which  he  scarcely  recognized : 

"  You  must  send  word  to  the  yacht  at  once !  We'll  have 
to  be  off  immediately — Loic  is  dying!" 

That  incoherent  letter  pencilled  in  the  Pernambuco  hos- 
pital had  arrived  at  the  same  time  with  the  one  written 
by  Loic  on  the  eve  of  his  madcap  departure  from  Bor- 
deaux— which  had  followed  her  on  and  on  during  a 
trip  to  wild  and  rarely  visited  corners  of  India — and 
thus  both  blows  were  now  falling  together  upon  her  with 
bewildering  violence. 

The  long  voyage  home  was  made  with  the  dizzy  swift- 
ness which  the  possession  of  a  fast  steam-yacht  and  of 
great  wealth  alone  can  insure,  but  it  seemed  for  all  that 
extraordinarily  slow  to  Gaidik. 

It  would  be  impossible  to  calculate  how  many  times  a 
day  she  paced  in  a  fever  of  impatience  backward  and 
forward  on  the  snowy  deck  of  the  Armorik,  gazing 
unseeingly  upon  the  sun  or  moonlit  surface  of  the  sea, 
blue  or  silvered,  deepening  to  star-spangled  violet  or 
brightening  to  luminous  green  or  gold-shot  rose. 

Sometimes  she  would  sit  down  for  a  little  while,  but 
almost  at  once  she  was  up  again,  walking,  walking,  walk- 
ing always,  to  and  fro,  her  unconquerable  Breton  tenacity 
and  pride  alone  enabling  her  to  control  her  countenance 

212 


THE    TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

and  to  preserve  her  extraordinary  self-possession  in  her 
relations  with  those  about  her.  A  sensation  almost  of 
fear  came  over  her  husband  as  he  watched  the  white- 
cheeked,  hard-pressed  little  creature  so  singularly  mute 
in  this  deep  sorrow  and  almost  intolerable  anxiety. 
******* 

It  was  a  gay  May  day,  all  a-blush  with  blossoming  haw- 
thorn and  fragrant  with  the  glowing  petals  of  gorse  and 
bracken,  when  a  hired  dog-cart  driven  at  full-speed  by 
Gaidik  dashed  up  the  avenue  at  Kergoat,  the  light 
equipage  following  the  horse  with  a  succession  of  leaps 
and  lurches  sufficient  to  terrify  anybody  but  the  over- 
wrought Gaidik  and  the  impassive  Breton  sitting  back  to 
back  with  her.  The  Duchess's  eyes  had  a  curiously  cruel 
gleam  in  them,  and  as  she  traversed  the  park  she  did 
not  vouchsafe  even  a  passing  attention  to  the  exquisite 
multitude  of  delicate  scents  and  sounds  rioting  under  the 
opulent  old  trees,  nor  to  the  far-reaching  ocean,  which 
this  time  had  put  on  its  bluest  robes  to  honor  her  re- 
turn. 

Urging  on  the  horse  with  a  lash  of  the  whip,  she 
skirted  the  house  and  drove  round  to  the  southern  front, 
where  the  sun-rays  fell  unbroken  on  the  ivy-garlanded 
terraces  and  the  granite  steps  felt  warm  beneath  her 
feet  as  she  raced  up  them  two  at  a  time. 

Madame  de  Kergoat  was  sipping  her  after  -  luncheon 
coffee  in  the  library  when  Gaidik  burst  in  upon  her — 
very  much  after  the  manner  of  a  hurricane,  it  must  be 
acknowledged — for  all  the  self-control  in  the  world  was 
now  unavailing  to  keep  in  bounds  her  anger  and  in- 
dignation. 

"What  news  have  you  of  my  Loic?"  she  exclaimed, 
casting  all  ceremony  and  usage  overboard  and  omitting 
all  preamble. 

213 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

Genevieve  actually  dropped  her  cup  and  jumped  to 
her  feet  with  a  cry  of  astonishment. 

"Good  Heavens!"  she  gasped;  "you  here?  Where  on 
earth  do  you  drop  from?  What  do  you  mean  by  such 
an  entrance?" 

"I've  just  told  you.  I'm  here  to  find  out  what  has 
become  of  my  Loic,"  Gaidik  harshly  repeated. 

"Your  Loic!"  echoed  the  Marquise,  a  faint  attempt  at 
raillery  kindling  amid  the  forlornness  of  her  efforts  to 
recover  her  tottering  mental  equipoise  and  mask  her 
extreme  embarrassment.  "Your  Loic,  indeed!" 

"Mine!  Yes,  certainly,  since  there  evidently  is  no  one 
else  in  the  world  to  take  an  interest  in  him — c'est  le  cas  de 
le  dire!"  Gaidik  interrupted,  an  angry  color  mounting 
to  her  white  cheeks.  "I  wonder,"  she  continued,  with 
a  pathetically  sudden  little  droop  of  the  corners  of  her 
mouth,  "whether  you  remember  your  solemn  promise  to 
be  more  forbearing,  more  just  to  him  —  and  yet  he  is 
dying  in  a  pauper's  hospital  at  the  other  end  of  the  world!" 

"Rubbish!"  Genevieve  exclaimed,  facing  her  all -too- 
literal  daughter,  flushing  hotly,  eyes  flashing  as  brilliant- 
ly as  Gaidik's  own.  "Oh,  you  incorrigible  accuser!  The 
whole  wretched  escapade  was  in  no  way  my  fault,  and, 
although  I  have  no  account  whatsoever  to  render  to 
you,  yet  I  am  ready  to  prove  this  to  you  or  to  any  one 
else  that  may  consider  it  his  or  her  duty  to  question  me!" 

"That's  as  it  may  be,  but  now  pray  begin  by  answer- 
ing my  question;  don't  hold  me  in  suspense  any  longer, 
for — '  And  here  there  was  a  perceptible  break  in 
Gaidik's  strained  voice.  "I  can't  bear  it  —  I  can't  — 
Where  is  Loic  ?  Tell  me  quickly,  because  wherever  it  is 
I'm  going  to  him!" 

Sharply  Genevieve  glanced  up  at  her  daughter,  and, 
judging  rightly  that  it  was  expedient  for  her  to  speak 

214 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

at  once  and  without  too  many  circumlocutions,  she  said, 
hurriedly : 

"He  is  on  his  way  home;  I  moved  heaven  and  earth 
to  find  him,  but  so  cleverly  had  he  covered  his  tracks 
that  it  took  a  very  long  time  for  the  detectives  I  em- 
ployed to  trace  him  to  Bordeaux  and  to  discover  the 
name  of  the  vessel  upon  which  he  had  shipped — indeed, 
it  was  rather  desperate  work"  —  here  her  own  voice 
trembled  a  little — "but  at  last  we  did  find  out.  Then  I 
cabled  at  once  to  the  French  consul  at  Pernambuco.  He 
discovered  that  Loic,  having  met  with  an  accident  dur- 
ing the  last  days  of  the  voyage,  had  been  taken  to  the 
hospital,  but  had  been  discharged  after  four  weeks,  and, 
refusing  all  assistance  or  offers  of  help  and  advice  from 
the  hospital  authorities,  who  had  taken  a  fancy  to  him, 
had  at  once  embarked  as  third  mate  upon  a  small  sailing 
vessel  bound  for  Stavanger,  in  Norway,  where  he  must 
shortly  arrive."  She  had  said  all  this  in  one  breath,  as 
if  eager  to  justify  herself,  and,  while  listening  to  her, 
Gaidik,  the  self -unconscious,  forgot  several  trifles  that 
might  properly  have  weighed  with  her — forgot  that  she 
was  fairly  played  out,  forgot  that  she  had  tasted  no 
food  worthy  of  the  name  for  an  impiously  long  time, 
forgot  also  that  her  mother  would  never  forgive  this 
abrupt  and  meteoric  apparition,  and,  obeying  impulse 
and  instinct  alone,  removed  herself  with  such  expedition 
from  that  astounded  lady's  field  of  vision  that  before 
she  could  recover  from  her  surprise  the  Duchesse  d'Aspre- 
mont  had  vaulted  into  the  waiting  dog -cart  and  was 
driving  away  at  breakneck  pace,  eager  just  then  only 
to  put  as  many  miles  as  possible  between  Kergoat  and 
herself. 

And  after  that  many  days  elapsed  before  those  two 

met  again,  but  during  this  period,  by  intimate  experience, 

2x5 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

Genevieve  learned  how  exceeding  great  is  the  forlorn- 
ness  of  the  remorseful.  Yes,  remorse  she  had  now  in 
plenty  to  keep  her  company,  this  strange,  erratic,  ca- 
pricious woman,  remorse  that  kept  her  awake  at  night, 
and  made  her  rush  during  the  day  into  a  succession  of 
amusements  invented  to  help  the  leaden -footed  hours 
upon  their  way.  Indeed,  she  tried  many  methods  of 
distraction,  and  for  a  time  none  of  them  availed  her,  but 
little  by  little  her  momentarily  shamed  and  softened 
mood  hardened  into  a  bitter  resentment  against  her  son 
that  soon  became  the  steady  background  of  his  absent 
figure. 

The  days  following  Gaidik' s  extraordinary  appearance 
upon  the  scene  were  hopelessly  wet,  and  violent,  scud- 
ding rains  beat  tattoos  all  day  long  on  the  windows  of 
Genevieve's  boudoir,  completely  drowning  the  glory  of 
the  gardens  and  park.  A  thick  vapor,  half  steam,  half 
mist,  rose  from  the  sea;  her  wandering  eyes  detected  no 
break  in  the  horizon,  and  at  length,  looking  at  the 
drenched,  mournful  prospect,  she  began  to  wonder  why 
she  had  ever  desired  above  all  things  to  go  all  the  way 
to  meet  Loic  at  the  far  Northern  port  where  he  was 
to  land.  "Let  Gaidik  go,  since  Gaidik  is  always  con- 
cerning herself  with  his  affairs,"  she  thought,  angrily, 
and  so,  all  tenderness  expunged  from  her  heart,  she 
ceased  to  wait  and  watch  and  hope  and  expect,  she 
ceased  to  gaze  hungry-eyed  at  the  great  picture  by  Kos- 
sak  hanging  above  her  prie-Dieu,  which  represented  Loic 
as  a  child  on  his  pony,  Pantin,  both  gazing  out  of  the 
canvas  with  lifelike  mischievousness,  and  ceased  to  plot 
and  plan  the  killing  of  the  fatted  calf,  which  occupation 
had  served  to  beguile  away  many  a  weary  hour. 

At  last  she  suddenly  set  off  for  Biarritz,  taking  an 
enormous  number  of  servants  and  horses  with  her. 

216 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

There  she  was,  of  course,  at  once  one  of  the  gayest  in  the 
aristocratic  procession  continually  filling  this  frivolous 
sea-side  resort.  The  band  on  the  esplanade  played — 
she  concluded — more  inspiring  accompaniments  to  her 
thoughts  than  had  the  rhythmically  sad  waves  at  Ker- 
goat,  and  the  picturesque  chain  of  the  Pyrenees — seem- 
ingly so  near  at  times  that  she  felt  as  if  she  could  have 
touched  them  with  the  amber  ferrule  of  her  gracefully 
flounced  sunshade — appeared  to  her  a  far  more  fitting 
mise-en-scene  for  her  grievances  than  the  honest  Breton 
cliffs  so  dear  to  her  unruly  children.  Nay,  even  the 
sibilant  babble  of  voices — Italian,  German,  Spanish,  Rus- 
sian, English — amused  her  and  rested  her  after  the  harsh 
Gaelic  consonants  which  had  ended  by  falling  dirgelike 
upon  her  ear  in  her  phantom-filled  solitude. 

It  therefore  came  to  pass  that  when  Loic,  tall  and 
still  very  thin,  sunburned  to  the  tone  of  a  Portuguese 
orange,  but  stalwart  and  square-shouldered  as  ever, 
stepped  ashore  at  Stavanger,  he  found  only  Gaidik  and 
Gaidik's  husband  to  welcome  him,  which  they  both  did 
most  enthusiastically,  and  with  so  much  pleasure  at  see- 
ing him  alive  and  well  that  they  totally  forgot  to  utter 
the  faintest  reproach.  Indeed,  it  was  fortunate  that 
such  was  the  case,  since  there  was  now  on  the  lad's 
face  the  stubborn,  resolute  look  of  a  fully  grown  man, 
and  one  not  easily  to  be  thwarted — nay,  there  lurked 
in  his  gray  eyes  a  harsh  and  masterful  spirit  which 
had  not  been  there  at  his  departure  from  Bordeaux, 
and  which  would  undoubtedly  have  precipitated  a  new 
crisis  between  him  and  his  mother  had  she  been  there  to 
observe  it. 

Whenever  they  looked  at  his  sister,  however,  those 
eyes  softened  wonderfully,  a  smile  almost  wistful  played 
about  his  lips,  and  the  deepest  tenderness  became  audi- 
is  <i  217 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

ble  in  his  roughened  voice  whenever  he  spoke  to  her,  but 
the  whole  nature  of  the  boy  seemed  changed,  neverthe- 
less, and  it  remained  for  the  future  to  prove  whether  this 
change  was  for  the  better  or  otherwise. 

They  feasted  the  returned  prodigal  on  board  their 
beautiful  yacht — which  seemed  strange  and  almost  fairy- 
like  to  Loic  after  the  dingy  cabins  of  the  grime-bespat- 
tered crafts  he  had  lately  inhabited — and  when  Gaidik's 
glance  rested  on  his  labor-torn  hands,  his  coarse,  blue 
clothes,  and  at  the  many  other  signs  of  hardship  and 
suffering  about  the  young  sailor,  she  asked  herself  what 
enduring  harm — or  good — he  might  have  taken  during 
these  past  months  spent  among  rough  and  disorderly 
crews  of  hard-drinking,  hard-living  men.  He  had  been 
brutalized  and  coerced,  had,  later  on,  himself  commanded, 
and  stood  watch  on  narrow,  storm  -  buffeted  decks;  he 
had  looked  into  far-away  harbors  and  seen  life  clearly 
from  one  of  its  most  rugged  coigns  of  vantage. 

At  all  events,  Loic  was  evidently  glad  to  have  come  into 
port.  He  was  his  sister's  shadow  while  they  stayed  at 
Stavanger,  that  quaint  Norwegian  seaport,  the  crooked, 
irregular  streets  of  which  turn  and  twirl  in  bewildering 
lacets  about  the  southern  shore  of  one  of  the  most  beau- 
tiful fjords  of  the  great  Northland. 

Their  joy  at  being  together  again  was  so  deep  that 
they  never  spoke  of  it,  but  she  often  gazed  at  him  with 
the  light  of  a  profound,  motherly  tenderness  in  her  eyes — 
a  light  so  wonderful  that  the  lives  of  all  men  are  incom- 
plete until  it  has  been  shed  upon  them,  a  light  which 
he  had  never  seen  in  his  own  mother's  passionate  eyes, 
and  which  made  him  look  up  at  her  in  an  amazement  of 
worship. 

"Ah,  don't — don't,"  he  whispered  one  day;  "it  makes 
me  feel  all  I've  lost  by  not  being  your  son  instead  of 

218  t» 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

your  brother."  She  took  his  arm  silently,  and  they 
strolled  away  over  the  short  velvet  of  the  grass,  all  dotted 
with  pink-tinged  daisies,  along,  the  calm,  blue  waters, 
where  every  now  and  then  a  rising  fish  broke  the  mirror 
of  its  smooth  surface  into  endless  circles  of  melting 
light  beneath  the  late  afternoon  sky. 

After  a  day  or  two  Loic  succeeded  in  rigging  himself 
out  after  a  fashion  in  the  little,  un resourceful  Northern 
town,  and  the  Armorik  swung  out  of  the  huddle  of 
boats  in  Stavanger  harbor,  brother  and  sister  leaning 
over  the  rail  and  watching  the  tall,  gray  spires  of  its 
cathedral  fade  away  into  the  silvery  mist  of  a  beautiful 
summer  morning,  she  at  least  with  feelings  too  complex 
to  be  analyzed. 

Would  this  grim  training  have  benefited  Loic?  The 
eternal  question  revolved  in  Gaidik's  mind  with  the  same 
regularity  as  did  the  propeller  of  her  yacht  in  the  sunlit 
waters  of  the  fjord.  The  happiness  of  at  least  three  lives 
hung  on  the  answer,  which  so  far  she  could  not  honestly 
give  even  to  herself.  Suppose  that  that  answer  held  by 
the  future  proved  to  be  "no."  What  then?  So  far 
Loic  had  hardly  mentioned  his  mother — clearly  he  was 
not  over-eager  to  meet  her  after  all  that  had  taken  place, 
and  it  was  only  when  tossing  on  the  North  Sea  and 
making  full  headway  for  home  that,  casually  turning  to 
his  brother-in-law  one  evening,  as  they  were  smoking 
together  on  deck,  he  quietly  remarked: 

" Where  am  I  to  go  next?" 

"Speaking  from  the  deepest  candor  of  my  soul,  I  do 
not  know,"  was  the  disconcerting  reply  given  with 
puzzled  emphasis.  "I  wonder,  my  dear  chap,  whether 
you  would  fall  upon  and  rend  a  well-meaning  individual 
who  would  venture  to  offer  you  a  word  of  well-meant 
advice?" 

219 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

Loic  threw  his  smoked -out  cigarette  overboard  and 
replied,  simply,  "I  would  accept  it  gratefully,  what- 
ever it  might  be,  for  I'm  very  much  at  sea  in  more  senses 
than  one." 

"Well,  then,"  his  brother-in-law  said,  leaning  forward 
a  little  and  gazing  into  the  troubled  gray  eyes  fixed 
upon  him,  "why  don't  you  take  your  courage  in  both 
hands  and  go  to  Biarritz  with  the  apologies  which  you 
really  owe  your  mother,  whatever  her  own  mistakes  and 
errors  may  have  been.  You  cannot,  after  all,  expect  her 
to  be  pleased  with  your  performances — can  you?  And 
let  me  add,  in  a  whisper,  that  peace  is  never  too  dear  to 
purchase." 

"How  can  I  go,"  Loic  exclaimed,  impatiently,  "when 
she  herself  has  gone  so  conspicuously  out  of  the  way  to 
show  that  she  does  not  care  a  damn  whether  I  arrive 
safely  or  not,  and  has  fairly  run  away  from  Kergoat  the 
moment  she  could  reasonably  expect  me  to  turn  up 
there?" 

"You  Bretons  are  the  coldest-blooded  animals  south 
of  the  Arctic  Circle,  besides  being  the  most  difficult  to 
manage,"  the  older  man  rejoined,  with  some  irritation. 
"You  and  Gaidik,  for  instance,  everlastingly  chain  up 
your  natural  impulses  as  if  to  yield  to  them  were  nothing 
short  of  a  crime.  Your  natural  impulse  just  now, 
Loic,  should  be  to  patch  up  a  very  unfortunate,  not  to 
say  a  very  dangerous,  state  of  affairs.  Your  mother  has 
absolute  power  over  you — at  least,  practically  speaking 
she  has — and,  if  you  can  find  a  ray  of  comfort  in  the  in- 
formation, I  may  as  well  tell  you  that  you  alone  can 
bend  her  will,  if  you  choose  to  take  the  trouble  to  do  so.  I 
presume  that  I  am  wrong  to  speak  to  you  as  I  do.  I 
should  play  my  part  as  elder  brother  better,  and  come 
the  sage  and  wise  adviser  over  you;  but  you  see  my 

220 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

wisdom  consists  just  now  in  endeavoring  to  avoid  an- 
other clash  between  you  and  her,  for  no  good  can  come 
of  it,  and,  besides,  all  these  revolutions  and  upsets  are 
literally  killing  Gaidik.  The  present  situation  is  a  nasty 
one,  which  nothing  short  of  a  miracle  can  disentangle. 
For  Heaven's  sake,  my  boy,  try  and  work  that  miracle, 
if  not  for  your  own  sake,  at  least  for  your  sister's.  Your 
good  mother  has  taken  the  bit  between  her  pretty  teeth, 
although,  doubtless,  she  still  hopes  to  reconquer  the 
hold  she  has  over  you  by  means  which  in  her  pres- 
ent mood  may  be  extremely  unpleasant  —  for,  I  re- 
peat, she  has  great  driving  powers.  There  is  a  certain 
Mephistophelian  sharpness  about  some  of  her  methods 
which  should  make  you  desirous  of  being  on  good  terms 
with  her,  besides  which  she  is  afraid  of  nothing,  not  even 
of  a  scandal,  if  that  be  the  only  means  of  gaming  her 
point.  What  I  say  may  seem  a  little  crude,  but  it  never- 
theless is  the  truth." 

"Yes  —  I  know,"  Loic  reluctantly  confessed,  "but 
don't  you  see  that  the  minute  I  begin  to  humble  myself 
before  her  she'll  provoke  me  into  committing  further 
follies  by  her  very  triumph!  So  what's  the  use?" 

"You  never  can  tell  beforehand  what  a  woman — more 
especially  your  mother — will  or  will  not  do.  And  even 
if  she  exacts  her  mental  pound  of  flesh,  don't  you  think 
that  you  are  strong  enough  to  endure  the  strain  now? 
Go  to  her,  Loic.  Take  my  advice.  I  have  spoken! 
What's  more,  I  think  that  Gaidik  thinks  exactly  as  I  do 
on  the  subject."  Then,  putting  his  hand  affectionately 
on  his  young  brother-in-law's  shoulder,  the  wise  counsellor 
concluded:  "Put  what  I've  said  in  your  pipe  and  smoke 
it — at  your  leisure.  You  are  too  fine  a  lad  to  waste 
your  energies  in  profitless  fights  with  women — believe  me, 
such  opponents  break  the  strongest  of  us  on  the  wheel." 

221 


THE    TRIDENT    ANDTHE    NET 

When  his  brother-in-law  had  departed  down  the  com- 
panion-way, Loic  began  to  stroll  backward  and  forward 
beneath  the  midnight  sky,  cogitating  with  himself  and 
glaring  at  vacancy  as  he  endeavored  to  make  up  his 
mind.  Suddenly  he  stamped  his  foot,  much  to  the  as- 
tonishment of  the  man  at  the  wheel  watching  him  from 
afar.  "Am  I  afraid  of  her?  sacre  nom  d'un  ckien"  he 
exclaimed  aloud,  thereby  transforming  his  solitary  hear- 
er's astonishment  into  positive  stupefaction. 

No,  he  was  not  precisely  afraid  of  his  mother,  but, 
nevertheless,  his  whole  soul  revolted  at  the  mere  idea  of 
the  nagging,  reproaching,  and  tormenting  he  well  knew 
lay  in  wait  for  him  along  the  path  recommended  by  his 
philosophical  relative. 

For  two  whole  hours  he  paced  the  deck,  until  the  sink- 
ing moon  illuminated  a  fleece  of  dove-hued  clouds  that 
hovered  above  the  horizon ;  the  outlines  of  shadow  melt- 
ed and  faded  into  neutral  blackness,  and  finally  the 
sea-rim  became  roseate  with  imminent  sunrise ;  but  when 
he,  too,  at  last,  went  below,  his  choice  was  taken,  and 
taken  according  to  his  brother-in-law's  advice.  Per- 
chance he  had  done  so  for  Gaidik's  sake,  perchance  par 
force  majeure,  but  still  there  remained  the  fact  that  he 
was  now  determined  to  take  the  first  step  towards  recon- 
ciliation. 

Having  conquered  his  almost  invincible  reluctance, 
he  decided  to  make  the  sacrifice  of  his  feelings  as  grace- 
fully as  possible,  and,  when  he  actually  found  himself 
speeding  across  France  on  his  way  to  Biarritz,  affection 
for  his  mother  began  to  reassert  itself,  and  it  was  with  a 
positively  contrite  and  softened  spirit  that  he  alighted 
at  the  gates  of  her  villa. 

She  was  sitting  on  a  broad  balcony  overlooking  the 
wide  prospect,  where  the  level  rays  of  a  brilliant  sun 

222 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

turned  the  rocks  to  masses  of  shining  bronze,  the  sea 
itself  to  liquid  gold.  The  lofty  summits  of  the  Pyrenees, 
in  the  distance,  seemed  almost  unsubstantial  against  the 
dead-turquoise  tints  of  the  sky — ideally  soft  and  pearly, 
like  floating  images  of  a  dream. 

She  distinctly  heard  the  carriage  which  had  brought 
him  turn  on  the  thickly  gravelled  drive;  she  heard  him 
ask  a  question  of  the  footman  on  duty  in  the  ante- 
chamber, then  the  words,  "All  right,  you  need  not 
show  me  the  way,"  in  the  same  quiet  voice.  There  was 
now  only  the  length  of  a  room  and  the  thickness  of  a 
portiere  between  her  and  her  boy.  Her  slender  hands 
went  convulsively  up  to  the  soft  laces  at  her  throat,  as 
if  they  were  choking  her,  and  in  the  mere  second  that 
elapsed  before  he  entered  she  wondered  what  would  hap- 
pen during  the  next  few  minutes,  wondered  whether  she 
was  longing  to  cover  him  with  kisses  or  strangle  him. 
She  was  still  wondering  when  he  came  in,  his  handsome, 
sunburned  face  singularly  brilliant  with  a  half -shy,  half- 
wistful,  and  utterly  winning  smile;  but  her  infernal  pride 
and  temper  made  her  remain  immovable,  and  outwardly, 
at  least,  most  cruelly  indifferent. 

Three  paces  from  her  he  stopped  short,  amazed  by  her 
frozen  attitude,  her  superciliously  raised  eyebrows  and 
rigid  lips,  her  whole  expression,  which  said  as  plainly  as 
words  could  have  done,  "You  miserable  wretch,  fall 
on  your  knees  and  implore  my  mercy!"  And  at  that 
all  tenderness  and  remorse  fled  from  Loic's  heart  like  a 
startled  flock  of  birds,  while  the  winsomeness  of  his  ex- 
pression changed  to  wonder  and  something  very  like  con- 
tempt as  he  took  in  her  gracefully  reclining  pose  in  a 
long  lounging-chair,  the  perfect  steadiness  of  the  delicate 
hands  clasped  loosely  around  the  handle  of  a  fan,  and 
the  elaborateness  of  her  white  afternoon  toilet. 

223 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

"I  have  come  to  apologize  to  you,  Mother,  for  the 
anxiety  and  trouble  I  caused  you,  and  to  express  my 
regrets,"  he  said,  in  extraordinarily  measured  tones,  wait- 
ing still  three  paces  off  for  a  sign  granting  him  permission 
to  approach.  His  heart  was  hardening  within  him  in  a 
singularly  complete  fashion. 

"I  do  not  think,"  she  said,  judicially,  "that  it  signifies 
much  to  you  whether  I  forgive  you  or  not,  or,  for  the  mat- 
ter of  that,  whether  I  care  for  you  or  not  any  longer.  Is 
it  not  rather  absurd  to  go  through  this  mere  empty  form  ?" 

Loic  stood  looking  down  at  her  with  eyes  made  rather 
terrible  by  the  white  heat  of  his  strongly  suppressed 
Breton  anger  —  a  very  special  and  dangerous  kind  of 
wrath.  In  the  silence  the  wavelets  outside  were  beating 
against  the  pebbly  beach,  as  if  in  a  breathless  haste  to 
speed  the  fateful  moments  on  their  way  by  their  gentle 
rustling,  regular  music,  while  Genevieve  continued  to 
lean  back  in  her  chair,  staring  harshly  at  her  son. 

"I  propose  in  the  future,"  she  continued,  in  the  same 
incisive  manner,  "to  adopt  an  entirely  different  regime 
with  you.  Tenderness  and  leniency  are  not  safe  feelings 
to  display  towards  such  a  nature  as  yours — as  I  have  to 
my  sorrow  discovered.  I  must  ask  you,  also,  to  remem- 
ber henceforth  who  you  are,  even  when  impelled  by  your 
strange  personal  tastes  to  descend  into  the  mire  from 
the  honorable  estate  to  which  you  were  born.  The  Ker- 
goats  have  been  proud  of  the  Heads  ot  their  House — up  to 
now — and  I  dislike  the  thought  that  a  son  of  mine  should 
be  the  first  to  alter  this  order  of  things." 

A  queer,  twisted  smile  passed  across  Loic's  rigid  feat- 
ures— the  smile  of  a  prisoner  bound  to  the  torture-post 
who  has  made  up  his  mind  not  to  cry  out. 

"What  do  you  intend  to  do  with  me?"  he  asked,  sud- 
denly finding  his  voice  again. 

224 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

"I  have  not  decided  as  yet,  but  at  present  you  can 
remain  here  for  a  few  days — until  I  give  you  further 
orders."  Her  cold  gaze  softened  for  a  fleeting  instant, 
for,  as  usual  in  her  encounters  with  him,  when  the  force 
of  her  anger  had  spent  itself,  she  was  already  beginning 
to  alternate  between  fury  and  forgiveness — a  critical 
state  for  any  woman,  and  especially  for  her — but  Loic 
noticed  nothing  of  this  partial  awakening  of  tenderness,  and 
stood  before  her  "  at  attention  "  without  relaxing  a  muscle. 

There  was  another  short  silence,  tense  and  throbbing, 
like  that  which  precedes  the  breaking  of  a  tornado. 
Below  the  balcony  the  little  wavelets  hurried  on  to  the 
assault  of  the  rocks,  measuring,  one  could  have  sworn, 
the  beats  of  their  two  hearts.  At  length  Genevieve  saw 
Loic  glance  at  the  small  travelling- clock  standing  with 
many  other  pretty  trifles  at  her  elbow,  and  make  an  al- 
most imperceptible  movement  towards  the  door.  At 
once  her  heart  gave  a  great  leap.  An  uneasy  apprehen- 
sion that  had  begun  to  grow  within  her  at  the  newness 
and  strangeness  of  his  attitude  sprang  at  once  to  the 
full  stature  of  a  maddening  fear  and  took  entire  pos- 
session of  her.  Was  he  going  to  run  away  from  her 
again?  What  had  she  done?  How  could  she  prevent 
him  from  doing  so,  if  he  chose  to  take  the  law  once  more 
into  his  own  hands?  What  a  fool  she  had  been!  Some 
instinct  bade  her  rise  to  her  feet  and  stand  before  him, 
no  longer  unbending  and  severe,  but  merely  the  beautiful, 
passionate  mother  she  really  was,  with  swift  tears  welling 
in  her  eyes,  and  both  arms  extended  towards  him  be- 
seechingly. 

"Oh,  Loic!  don't  draw  away  from  me  like  that,"  she 
cried.  "Can't  you  see  that  my  heart  is  breaking,  that  I 
love  you,  love  you,  love  you,  in  spite  of  all  you  have 
done  and  may  yet  do?" 

225 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

"Hush,  Mother!"  he  said,  without  advancing  an  inch. 
"It  is  best  that  you  should  say  no  more." 

She  understood  what  was  passing  within  him,  stand- 
ing there  so  quietly  before  her  in  his  marvellous  self- 
restraint,  and  threw  herself  almost  at  his  feet  in  a  wild, 
incoherent  frenzy  of  self-reproach  and  self-abasement. 

"I  will  do  anything  you  wish!"  she  sobbed,  wildly. 
"I  will  never,  never  scold  or  reprove  you  again,  but,  oh, 
Loic —  oh,  Loic,  forgive  me  and  be  my  own  darling  lit- 
tle son  again!" 

She  knew  the  note  to  strike  now,  and  struck  with  a 
sure  hand,  but  it  had  been  touch  and  go  this  time  be- 
tween mother  and  son. 


JBoofc  flUU 

Sbe 


IITB 


CHAPTER   XII 

Would  you  never  know 
Tears  and  vain  regret? 

Never  yet 

Paid  that  bitter  debt. 
Gentle  speech  and  slow, 

Nor  I  trow 
Midnight's  pillow  wet, 
Never  yet. 

The  Clock,!.— -M.  M. 

ON  a  mild,  gray  day  in  early  September,  Genevieve 
and  Loic  were  sitting  together  on  the  sands  of  a  pict- 
uresque little  Vendeen  coast  village. 

This  spot  seemed  but  a  poor  substitute  for  the  grand- 
eurs and  magnificences  of  Kergoat,  but  to  them  in  their 
recent  reunion  after  yet  another  long  and  eventful  period 
of  separation,  its  extreme  loneliness  and  simplicity  were 
welcome. 

Behind  them  at  a  short  distance  was  the  one  hotel  of 
the  place,  a  broad-spread,  low  building,  with  blue-slate 
roofs,  diamond-paned  windows,  and  a  profusion  of  bal- 
conied rooms  oak -panelled  and  quaint  enough  to  suit 
even  Loic's  ultra  -  mediaeval  tastes.  Scattered  along  the 
beach  lay  a  score  or  so  of  little  cottages  inhabited  by 
fisher-folk,  while  in  all  other  directions  beyond  this  scanty 
line  of  thatched  buildings  stretched  desolate  moorland, 
grayish  green  in  the  foreground,  and  emerald -hued  where 
in  the  distance  it  merged  into  broad  marshes  waving  with 
tall  reeds  and  slender,  blossoming  water-plants. 

229 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

To  this  place  Fate,  in  the  shape  of  a  fashionable 
physician's  orders,  had  brought  Madame  de  Kergoat  to 
recruit  in  its  quiet  and  uneventful  atmosphere  the 
strength  sadly  sapped  by  the  life  of  social  excitement, 
which  was  meat  and  drink  to  her.  "Here  at  least,"  he 
had  blandly  remarked,  "it  will  be  impossible  for  you 
either  to  tire  or  enjoy  yourself,  Madame  la  Marquise, 
which  is  exactly  what  you  need." 

There  was,  indeed,  a  soul-soothing  serenity  to  be  found 
in  that  rarely  visited  corner,  while  with  the  aid  of  rides, 
drives,  and  sails  to  the  exquisite  islands  which  entwine 
the  sea  in  their  long,  low  curves  within  a  few  miles  of 
the  shore,  the  hours  passed  very  pleasantly. 

As  may  readily  be  imagined,  the  arrival  in  so  tiny  and 
unpretentious  a  place  of  the  Marquis  and  Marquise  de 
Kergoat,  with  an  interminable  train  of  servants,  horses, 
and  carriages,  had  created  a  considerable  stir,  and  an 
immense  amount  of  speculation  was  aroused  concerning 
the  real  object  of  such  puissant  Seigneurs  in  selecting  this 
solitary  and  melancholy  hamlet  for  a  stay  of  several 
weeks.  It  speedily  became  apparent  that,  whatever  their 
motives  might  be,  they  did  not  include  visiting  the  few 
chateaux  in  the  remote  neighborhood,  nor  becoming  ac- 
quainted with  the  yet  fewer  baigneurs  quartered  in  the 
antique  hostelry — the  entire  first  floor  of  which  they 
themselves  occupied — for  they  never  spoke  to  any  one, 
and  scrupulously  shunned  all  occasions  of  meeting  any 
one  at  close  quarters,  even  on  the  beach.  It  of  course 
never  occurred  to  these  excellent  gossips  that  the  mother 
and  son  were  actuated  by  a  mere  temporary  desire  for 
quiet,  a  sudden  craving  for  solitude  and  complete  repose; 
and  from  morning  till  night  tattle  concerning  them  oc- 
cupied all  tongues.  The  few  bolder  spirits  who  tried  to 
pass  the  barrier  of  Genevieve's  reserve  had  had  occasion 

230 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

to  find  out  that  too  great  an  audacity  generally  goes 
before  a  fall,  for  their  eager  advances  were  met  by  that 
great  lady  only  with  arctic  inclinations  of  her  lovely  head 
and  a  cloud  of  much  wrath  upon  her  fair  brow, 

If  any  soreness  was  felt  by  the  natives  on  account 
of  these  repeated  snubs,  it  was  a  very  passing  emotion, 
however,  soon  effaced  by  the  gratifying  prosperity  which 
the  "distinguished  visitors"  brought  with  them,  and  they 
were  soon  looked  upon  as  interesting  eccentrics  confer- 
ring much  glamour  and  kudos  upon  the  whole  country- 
side by  their  sumptuous  presence. 

Genevieve  was  just  then  perfectly  happy.  She  had 
the  one  thing  which  always  filled  her  heart  with  joy — 
the  undisputed  possession  of  Loic;  moreover,  on  the 
afternoon  just  referred  to  there  was  a  charming  lavender- 
hued  sea  pailletted  with  silver  at  her  feet,  a  balmy,  flut- 
tering breeze  around  her,  and  the  few  scattered  bathers, 
clad  in  stripes  of  deplorably  crude  coloring,  disporting 
themselves  in  the  shallow  ripples  of  the  bay,  were  distant 
at  least  half  a  mile  from  her  critical  and  easily  offended 
eyes.  All  this  made  her  really  enjoy  her  cigarette,  made 
the  very  croaks  of  the  innumerable  sea-mews  circling 
in  graceful  evolutions  above  the  wavelets  sound  almost 
harmonious,  and  caused  a  soft  and  dreamy  smile  of  con- 
tent to  linger  on  her  lips,  especially  when,  in  languidly 
enumerating  all  these  blessings  to  herself,  she  recalled 
the  supreme  joy — that  Gaidik  was  very  far  away  indeed 
— on  the  other  side  of  the  world — and  not  likely,  there- 
fore, to  come  and  tarnish  for  her  the  full  and  complete 
delight  of  Loic's  presence. 

"Is  not  this  absolutely  perfect,  my  dearest  one?"  she 
asked  of  her  idol,  who,  lying  at  full  length  on  the  sand 
at  her  feet,  presented  a  very  fine  picture  of  what  young 
Aristocrats  should  be,  and  nowadays  so  seldom  are.  She 

231 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

herself  was  really  amazing  in  her  everlasting  youthful- 
ness  of  aspect,  with  her  ethereal  draperies  of  simple 
batiste  sublimized  by  filmy  laces  and  Arachnean  em- 
broideries, her  broad  capeline  wreathed  with  white  lilac, 
and  her  all-pervading  bouquet  of  extreme  elegance.  She 
was — it  could  not  be  doubted — as  beautiful  as  ever,  per- 
haps more  so — beautiful  even  in  broad  daylight.  She 
looked  to  ill-natured  people  perhaps  thirty-five,  but  not 
a  day  more!  Egoism,  as  a  clever  observer  once  declared, 
is  far  more  effective  as  a  preservative  of  loveliness  than 
Ninon  de  1'Enclos's  never-discovered  secret. 

Beneath  the  rosy  lining  of  her  white  silk  sunshade 
she  beamed  on  Loic,  nudging  him  occasionally  with  the 
tip  of  her  dainty  little  tan  shoe  when  an  especially 
ludicrous  peignoir-wrapped  figure  sauntered  up  from  the 
"bathing  beach"  towards  the  hotel. 

"What  are  you  staring  at?"  she  said,  suddenly,  see- 
ing him  look  rather  intently  at  something  behind  her, 
and,  as  he  did  not  answer,  she  put  up  her  long-handled 
eye  -  glass  and  turned  irritably  around  to  discover  two 
women  walking  towards  the  hallowed  spot  she  herself 
always  occupied  at  that  hour;  and  she,  who  was  a  figure 
of  grace  even  in  what  she  called  "a  plain  little  batiste 
frock,"  frowned  her  most  imperial  frown  at  these  two 
provincial  persons,  evidently  rigged  up  in  their  best  bibs 
and  tuckers  for  this  holiday.  They  wore  silk  dresses  of 
daring  hues,  barbaric  in  make  and  guiltless  of  any  at- 
tempt to  tone  down  their  raw  brilliancy  by  so  much  as  a 
gauzy  scarf,  to  the  general  effect  of  a  toilette  de  plage. 

"Who  in  the  world,"  Genevi&ve  began,  "can  these 
people  be?  They  are,  I  honestly  believe,  fifty  degrees 
more  impossible  than  any  we  have  seen  here  as  yet,  and 
what  do  they  mean  by  passing  so  close  to  us?" 

Loic,  versed  in  the  ways  of  the  Powers  that  were, 

232 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

offered  no  comment,  and. especially  avoided  giving  vent 
to  his  opinion  that  the  elder  of  the  two  intruders,  in  spite 
of  her  ludicrous  finery,  was  what  he  termed,  below  his 
breath,  "a  stunner!"  But  still  the  shrewd,  suspicious 
mother  had  an  uneasy  sense  that  there  was  something 
alarming  behind  this  prudent  silence,  and  the  curiously 
prolonged  gaze  of  the  persons — who  perceptibly  slack- 
ened their  pace  as  they  approached  —  filled  her  with 
righteous  indignation.  At  the  thought  that  this  was 
done  for  Loic's  benefit,  Genevieve  felt  a  mist  before  her 
eyes,  a  tightness  at  her  throat,  and  a  vague  and  worried 
pain  all  over  her  which  she  already  knew  well,  having  ex- 
perienced it  whenever  her  tigerish  jealousy  of  him  was 
awakened.  So  she  had  a  moment  of  uncomfortable  ab- 
straction, but,  energetically  shaking  herself  free  from  it 
almost  immediately,  she  pointed  with  her  eye-glass  after 
the  two  strolling  figures  reluctantly  drawing  away,  and 
said,  with  a  little  contemptuous  laugh: 

"Even  here  the  vulgarity  of  our  time  makes  itself 
felt,  not  to  mention  its  audacity.  Fancy  wearing  light- 
colored  silks — silks  here  in  the  morning  and  with  plumed 
hats  and  high-heeled  shoes  in  the  sand!  But  I  suppose 
you're  too  much  of  a  man  to  be  able  completely  to  ap- 
preciate such  incongruities;  or  has  your  sojourn  out 
West  irretrievably  ruined  your  taste  and  good  sense? 
Come,  out  with  it;  tell  me  whether  you  are  still  able  to 
judge  correctly  ?" 

"What  do  you  want  me  to  tell  you,  Mother,  dear?"  he 
asked,  a  little  impatiently.  "I've  never  in  my  life  set 
eyes  on  these  two  particulieres  before  to-day,  if  that's 
what  you  are  eager  to  know,  and  I  certainly  do  not  ad- 
mire their  style  of  dress ;  but  what  have  we  got  to  do  with 
them?" 

She  scrutinized  him  sharply. 

16  233 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

"Hand  on  heart?"  she  said,  doubtfully.  "You  never 
saw  them  before?"  To  which  curious  question  he  an- 
swered, supporting  her  scrutiny  without  in  the  least 
flinching: 

"Hand  on  heart,  Mother,  dear." 

"  Well,  then,"  she  uttered,  with  a  little  sigh  of  relief, 
"keep  out  of  their  way  if  you  can  possibly  do  so,  for 
they  are  indeed  sorry  specimens,  which  I  would  scarcely 
have  expected  to  see  here." 

The  women ,  in  their  gaudy  dresses,  were  moving  slowly 
down  the  beach,  and  Loic,  from  beneath  his  straw  hat 
tilted  over  his  eyes  as  he  reclined  at  his  mother's  feet, 
glanced  covertly  after  them,  while  she,  having  re- 
lapsed into  her  reverie,  smiled  a  soft,  mysterious  little 
smile. 

Now  Genevieve  de  Kergoat's  detractors — and  she  had 
many — claimed  that  it  was  behind  her  gentlest  smiles 
that  the  greatest  danger  lurked,  and  averred  that  she 
was  then  least  of  all  to  be  trusted.  It  may  be  doubted, 
though,  whether  anybody  existed  who  could  really 
judge  this  strange  woman,  whose  inveterate  habit  of  act- 
ing on  the  impulse  of  the  moment — especially  where  her 
son  was  concerned — was  so  fatal  to  the  success  of  her 
plans. 

After  his  terrible  seafaring  escapade,  Loic,  temporarily 
reconciled  to  her — on  the  basis  of  her  complete  surrender 
— had  thrown  himself  heart  and  soul  into  the  manifold 
pleasures  which  her  immediate  environment  so  lavishly 
afforded  him.  He  had  at  once  become  a  great  favorite 
in  her  immense  social  circle,  had  played  polo,  ridden 
steeplechases,  and  in  these  and  other  amusements  often 
less  innocuous  had  scattered  money  broadcast  about 
him  with  her  entire  sanction  and  approval.  The  more 
serious  duties  of  life,  however,  came  last,  as  usual,  and 

234 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

she  was  well  content  that  it  should  be  so,  as  long  as  he 
remained  at  her  side  and  was  as  much  as  possible  her 
companion;  turning  a  deaf  ear  to  earnest  and  repeated 
remonstrances  not  only  from  her  brother-in-law — who 
went  about  at  that  time  with  a  graver  and  graver  face — 
but  even  from  her  own  brother  and  chief  counsellor. 
Nay,  she  positively  encouraged  her  son  in  the  self-in- 
dulgent, excitement-seeking  life  which  she  herself  loved. 

As  time  went  on  she  made  a  pretence  of  resuming  the 
plan  of  education  she  had — so  she  said — carefully  de- 
signed for  him.  He  spent  some  weeks  in  England  under 
the  care  of  a  singularly  high-priced  and  facile  tutor,  and 
travelled  about,  later  on,  with  another  equally  com- 
plaisant gentleman  of  great  merit,  but  all  thought  of  any 
of  the  customary  educational  finales — the  University, 
St.  Cyr,  Saumur,  the  Naval  School,  or  the  Poly  technique, 
as  the  case  might  be — had  been  abandoned  because  the 
Marquise  did  not  care  to  do  more  than  suggest,  once  or 
twice  en  passant,  such  a  serious  interruption  of  their  now 
so  delightful  existence  together. 

"Put  the  lad  in  the  army,  or  let  him  return  to  the 
navy;  there  are  no  other  careers  for  one  so  full  of  life 
and  spirits,"  Count  Rene'  had  pleaded,  advised,  and 
finally  thundered;  but  "the  lad"  had  had  enough  of  the 
sea  just  then,  the  republican  army  of  France  appealed 
not  at  all  to  his  haughty  mother's  ideas,  and  so  Loic  had 
become  a  curious  educational  waif,  moving  on  and  on, 
in  the  grandest  possible  state,  in  search  of  some  ideal 
plan  which  would  infuse  into  him  all  necessary  knowledge 
— presumably  during  his  sleeping  hours,  or  in  any  other 
as  yet  uninvented  and  painless  manner! 

Of  course  it  goes  without  saying  that  he  involved  him- 
self in  a  series  of  scrapes  that  tended  to  increase  in  mag- 
nitude as  he  grew  in  mind  and  body.  Through  these  it 

235 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

was  always  Gaidik  who  steered  him,  hastening  half  across 
Europe  to  the  scene  of  action  if  need  were,  while  his 
mother,  as  usual,  fretted  and  fumed  and  did  the  wrong 
thing  if  anything  at  all.  At  such  moments  the  little 
hand  on  the  helm  was  a  very  steady,  courageous,  and 
loving  one,  but  the  very  minute  she  was  compelled  by  the 
many  tyrannical  exigencies  of  her  position  to  relinquish 
it,  Loic  began  once  again  to  toss  hither  and  thither  on 
every  alluring  wave,  and  to  answer  to  every  fragrant  breeze 
blowing  from  Pleasure's  shore. 

It  is  but  fair  to  say  that  his  path  was  beset  with 
temptations  that  would  have  been  almost  invincible  for 
any  young  fellow,  however  well  trained  and  bred.  Not 
only  was  he  extraordinarily  handsome,  but  he  possessed 
a  winning  charm  which  no  woman,  whether  high  or  low, 
ever  knew  how  to  resist.  Essentially  thorough -bred,  with 
a  great  deal  of  latent  recklessness  under  his  Breton  im- 
passibility, and  when  he  so  wished  it  a  singular  softness 
in  the  depths  of  his  dark-gray  eyes,  veiled  by  unusually 
long  lashes,  it  is  no  wonder  that  great  ladies  and  smaller 
ones  should  make  a  pet  of  him,  or  fall  unresistingly  at  his 
feet.  One  and  all,  moreover,  found  it  excessively  pleas- 
ant to  have  for  one's  squire  a  youth  who  did  not  know 
what  it  was  to  be  without  magnificent  horses,  pockets  full 
of  money,  and  luxuries  of  every  possible  nature;  and 
with  it  all  a  dashing,  captivating  way  of  managing  every- 
thing and  everybody  that  was  in  the  last  degree  Grand 
Seigneur. 

One  pre-eminent  trait  he  had  inherited  from  a  long 
line  of  Breton  ancestors,  the  extremely  enviable  and  rare 
talent  of  never  showing  either  discouragement,  disap- 
pointment, undue  exhilaration,  or  embarrassment — in  one 
word,  he  fully  deserved  the  title  of  "  Votrelmperturbabilite" 
with  which  many  fair  ones  had  adorned  him.  Alas,  that 

236 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

imperturbability  is  unfortunately  not  synonymous  with 
steadiness,  nor  the  restraint  of  one's  outward  demeanor 
with  self-control!  This  eminently  gifted  youngster,  so 
very  good  to  look  upon,  so  keen-witted,  so  precocious  in 
tact  and  monde,  received  an  indelible  impression  from 
that  period  of  unbridled  luxury,  over-indulgence,  and 
over-petting,  for,  thanks  to  its  unlimited  possibilities, 
frail  beauties  taught  him  far  too  early  to  eat  the  sweet- 
bitter  apple  that  is  always  held  out  to  such  as  he  by  the 
hand  of  modern  Eve. 

Sometimes,  for  she  was  inconsistent  in  this  as  in  all 
else,  Genevieve's  anger  rose  if  she  learned  of  these 
peches  mignons,  and,  her  savage  jealousy  once  aroused, 
this  frivolous,  superficial,  and  extremely  mondaine  wom- 
an had  adopted  ultra  -  puritanical  and  Catonian  views, 
which  found  vent  in  denunciations  so  bitter  and  cruel 
that  he,  though  none  of  the  least  courageous,  had  often 
trembled  beneath  the  lash  of  her  scathing  diatribes. 
And  that  is  where  the  situation  began  to  become — as 
Count  Rene  had  so  wisely  predicted — an  absolutely  im- 
possible one.  Loic,  carried  quite  out  of  himself  by  sheer 
exasperation,  finally  made  it  clear  to  his  infuriated 
mother  that  the  word  "  duty,"  which  she  now  so  constantly 
invoked,  had  been  one  hitherto  left  out  of  her  maternal 
vocabulary,  save  on  rare  and  exceedingly  selfish  occa- 
sions, and  that  her  own  line  of  conduct  had  been  far  too 
egotistical  to  give  her  any  title  now  to  preach  renuncia- 
tion or  sacrifice  to  him.  Fortunately,  his  personal  tastes 
were  naturally  fine  and  delicate,  which  prevented  his 
sinking  from  the  first  into  debauchery.  Moreover,  the 
thought  of  Gaidik  lifted  him  above  anything  really  low, 
but  nevertheless  his  conduct  was  far  from  praiseworthy, 
and  finally,  after  a  quarrel  of  unequalled  violence,  he  had 
for  the  second  time  taken  the  law  into  his  own  hands  and 

237 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

sailed  for  America,  where  during  the  best  part  of  two 
years  he  had  ranched  in  Montana  and  Wyoming. 

Now,  however,  he  had  been  prevailed  upon  to  return 
home  in  order  to  celebrate  his  coming  of  age,  and  he 
came — no  longer  a  boy,  but  one  who  had  lived  a  man 
among  men  in  the  wild  places  of  the  world — to  begin 
life  in  his  native  land  as  his  own  master,  a  little  weary  of 
roughing  it,  more  than  a  little  conscious  of  his  share  in 
the  old  quarrel,  and  fully  determined  to  do  all  within  his 
power  henceforward  to  avoid  bickerings  and  differences. 

He  had  gained  wisdom  by  experience — since  experience 
is  a  synonyme  for  one's  mistakes — to  the  point  of  candid- 
ly confessing  to  himself  that  on  more  than  one  occasion 
he  had  acted  like  a  consummate  fool.  This  time,  how- 
ever hard  his  admirable  composure  was  taxed,  he  in- 
tended to  remain  firm  at  his  post  and  display  the  most 
praiseworthy  patience,  nor  would  he  clutch  greedily,  rav- 
enously, at  the  pleasures  of  the  moment,  tearing  life's  blos- 
soms with  both  hands,  but  be  a  model  son,  however. 
L'homme  propose  —  and  with  poor  Loic,  alas! — la  jemme 
dispose — of  this  he  was  soon  to  become  convinced. 

Rather  early  on  the  morning  after  the  appearance  of 
the  two  beplumed  visitors  upon  the  beach,  Loic  was  walk- 
ing down  the  sands.  He  had  gone  straight  from  his 
bed  for  a  swim  to  a  place  some  quarter  of  a  mile  away, 
where  the  long  Atlantic  breakers  had  scooped  out  within 
a  necklace  of  rocks  a  pool  wide  and  deep,  temptingly  in- 
viting one  to  take  a  header.  Now  he  was  on  his  way 
home  to  his  mother  and  breakfast. 

The  dunes  rose  gently  from  the  water's  edge  in  a 
series  of  undulations  gilded  by  the  low  sun  and  topped 
by  straggling  blackberry  -  bushes  covered  with  dark- 
purple  fruit,  or  sparsely  furred  with  short,  salty  grass 
mingled  with  sea-pinks  and  silvery  thistles. 

238 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

Loic,  clad  in  a  dark-blue  bathing-suit,  a  bathing-towel 
thrown  over  his  shoulder,  swung  rapidly  onward,  looking 
neither  to  right  nor  to  left,  when  he  suddenly  became 
aware  of  a  voice  calling  loudly  for  help.  It  was  a  femi- 
nine voice,  youthful  and  not  unmelodious,  although — 
perchance  owing  to  the  exigencies  of  the  moment — it 
seemed  to  lack  polish  and  delicacy  of  modulation. 

"Hello!"  Loic  said  to  himself,  "who's  in  trouble  so 
early?"  and  without  a  minute's  hesitation  he  went 
scrambling  down  the  coarse  shingle  towards  the  voice, 
picking  his  way  from  stone  to  stone  at  a  run. 

Close  to  the  waves  there  was  another  pool  smaller  and 
shallower  than  his  favorite  plunge,  but  still  quite  deep 
enough  to  drown  an  ordinary  human  being  not  possessed 
of  the  gentle  art  of  swimming,  and  therein,  clinging  to  a 
projecting  rock,  was  a  woman,  clad — or  rather  partially 
so — in  scarlet  and  blue  stripes,  her  tousled  locks  crowned 
with  a  brilliant  top-knot  of  fluttering  silk. 

That  she  was  in  no  great  danger  Loic  saw  at  a  glance, 
and  in  his  easiest  man-of-the-world  accents  he  called 
out: 

"I'll  be  with  you  in  a  second — pray  hold  on!" 

In  a  twinkling  he  had  cleared  the  short  remaining 
distance,  thrown  down  his  towel,  and,  bending  far  over, 
had  lifted  the  dripping  bather  gallantly  to  terra-firma. 

"I  trust  you  are  not  hurt?"  he  said,  bowing  slightly, 
while  his  gray  eyes  smiled  frankly  and  a  little  mockingly 
into  her  brown  ones,  which  had  lost  all  signs  of  terror 
and  had  swiftly  assumed  a  half-shy,  half-pleading,  and 
wholly  tender  expression. 

"You  should  not  be  so  venturesome!"  he  continued, 
still  smiling  mockingly,  a  little  amused  and  not  at  all 
taken  in  by  her  pretty  minauderies.  Here  at  close 
quarters  with  her  he  had  at  once  recognized  the  "stun- 

239 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

ner"  of  yesterday,  and  he  owned  to  his  thoughts  that 
though  perhaps  not  particularly  refined  in  appearance, 
she  was  yet  decidedly  good-looking,  that  her  soft  eyes 
were  beautiful  (expressive  and  wistful  and  luminous,  de- 
spite their  coquettishly  drooping  lashes),  her  complexion 
of  cream  and  roses,  and  her  dark  hair  very  becomingly  dis- 
ordered. With  a  deep  inclination  of  her  head,  and  in 
ardent  accents,  she  said,  dramatically,  both  hands  pressed 
to  her  heart: 

"You  are  too  good,  Monsieur  le  Marquis — too  noble! 
I  owe  you  my  life!" 

Loic  could  have  laughed  aloud.  The  ludicrousness  of 
the  situation  struck  him  forcibly,  and,  indeed,  realizing 
what  his  mother  would  say  could  she  only  hear  and  see 
what  was  passing,  he  had  a  hard  struggle  to  keep  serious. 

"Oh,  you  little  flirt,"  he  thought,  "with  your  ineffable 
simagrtes!  Do  you  think  you  can  fool  me?"  If  the 
rescued  dame  had  only  laughed — even  smiled — it  wouldn't 
have  been  so  bad.  but  she  was  as  solemn  and  tragic  as  a 
Roman  Vestal,  and  he  thanked  a  merciful  Providence 
that  she  did  not  think  it  incumbent  upon  her  to  fall  at 
and  kiss  his  feet,  in  token  of  her  impassioned  gratitude. 

"May  I  escort  you  to  your  residence,  if  you  are  at  all 
faint?"  he  forced  himself  to  say,  with  now  preternatural 
gravity,  looking  calmly  into  the  big,  brown  eyes,  which 
from  languishing  had  become  two  lively  points  of  inter- 
rogation . 

"No!  No!  I  am  all  right  now,  Monsieur  le  Marquis," 
she  responded,  fairly  gargling  her  bourgeois  throat  with 
the  grandeur  of  his  title.  "Thanks  to  your  magnificent 
strength  and  courage,  I  am  quite  well — and  oh!  so  grateful 
to  be  saved  from  a  watery  grave,  if  only  for  the  sake  of 
my  beloved  children. 

"Your  children?  You  must  be  joking!"  .quoth  the 

240 


THE    TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

highly  entertained  "  hero."  "Why,  Madame,  you  are  but 
a  child  yourself.  But  pray  say  no  more  about  what 
I  have  done,  I  merely  lifted  you  out  of  a  puddle,  and  it 
is  a  trifle  unkind  of  you  to  make  fun  of  me." 

"Fun  of  you!  Oh!  Oh!  O-o-o-oh!"  the  lady  exclaimed, 
her  pink  face  more  tragic  than  ever  as  she  lengthened 
her  vowels  in  passionate  deprecation  of  such  an  idea. 
"You  who  rescued  me  so  bravely,  when  my  strength 
was  all  but  exhausted,  when  I  was  on  the  point  of  sink- 
ing forevermore  into  this  abyss!" 

Loic's  mirth  broke  out  openly  this  time.  "There  you 
are  at  it  again!"  he  managed  to  say.  "It  is  the  height 
of  un charitableness  on  your  part  to  pretend  that  I  ac- 
complished anything  difficult  or — risky." 

The  fair  stranger  considered  this  protest  sorrowfully, 
and  proceeded  pleadingly  to  set  him  right. 

"No,  no!"  she  said,  with  quite  a  killing  drop  of  the 
eyelids  and  a  deprecatory  little  shake  of  the  head.  "You 
do  not  understand ;  I  will  explain — later  when  I  have  the 
bliss  of  seeing  you  again,  which  I  trust  may  be  soon. 
You  have  saved  me,  that  is  certain,  but  my  emotion  is 
too  great  to  say  more  now,"  and  with  a  gazelle-like  bound 
she  fled. 

Loic's  merry  eyes  clouded  with  a  little  mist  of  scorn. 
"Sacrte  poseuse !"  he  muttered,  as,  making  no  effort 
whatsoever  to  follow  her,  he  threw  his  towel  once  more 
round  his  neck  and  walked  slowly  up  the  steep,  sandy 
pathway  to  the  top  of  the  ridge  upon  which  the  hotel 
stood. 

Still  a  little  disgusted,  at  the  end  of  his  climb  he  went 
through  the  cloister-like  veranda  and  in  at  a  side  door 
leading  to  his  rooms,  where  he  rapidly  dressed  himself, 
smoking  several  post-ablutive  cigarettes  the  while,  and, 
much  to  his  valet's  amazement,  bursting  two  or  three 

241 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

times    into    regular    guffaws    of    apparently    causeless 
laughter. 

When  he  joined  his  mother  in  her  wainscoted  and  mul- 
lioned  private  salle  a  manger,  she  was  not  reading,  in 
spite  of  the  seeming  evidence  of  an  open  volume  of 
memoirs  lying  on  her  lap,  and  she  welcomed  him  with  a 
rather  ominous  and  inquisitive  glance  of  her  keen,  black 
eyes. 

"Had  a  nice  dip?"  she  asked,  rising  stiffly,  and,  with- 
out offering  to  kiss  him,  taking  her  place  at  the  break- 
fast-table, drawn  up  near  an  open  bow-window.  She 
seemed,  in  her  pale  mauve  morning-gown  profusely  cloud- 
ed with  Valenciennes  lace,  as  fresh  and  healthy  as  a  sea- 
breeze  and  fully  as  imperious  and  overbearing. 

Loic,  who  was  already  carrying  his  cup  of  chocolate 
greedily  to  his  lips,  choked  suddenly  and  violently. 

"You  seem  amused,"  asked  Genevieve,  smiling  frost- 
ily. "May  I  inquire  what  has  aroused  your  merriment?" 

"Certainly,"  Loic  replied,  rather  tremulously,  man- 
fully struggling  for  gravity,  but  really  shaking  with  sup- 
pressed laughter. 

"Well,  then,  do!"  she  ordered,  staring  at  his  crimson, 
strangling  face.  "Stop  laughing,  can't  you?" 

"You're  a  darling,  Mother,  dear,"  he  said,  subduing 
with  a  violent  effort  the  twitching  muscles  round  his 
mouth,  "but  only  a  poor  dissembler  this  morning.  Why 
don't  you  confess  that  you  were  watching  my  perform- 
ances through  your  field  glasses?" 

Genevieve,  with  a  gesture  that  sought  to  be  restrained, 
but  suggested  a  pounce,  picked  up  two  rose-buds  which 
had  fallen  from  the  table  jardiniere,  and  flicked  them 
out  of  the  window  with  great  accuracy  of  aim. 

"You  should  not  come  and  enact  your  love-scenes 
within  range  of  my  balcony,"  she  replied,  viciously. 

242 


THE   TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

"Well,  I'll  be  blowed !"  Loic  exclaimed,  inelegantly 
but  very  forcibly,  his  cheerful  face  clouding  a  little,  and 
in  almost  a  peremptory  tone  he  continued:  "  For  Heaven's 
sake,  Mamma,  don't  be  tragic — I've  had  enough  of  that 
sort  of  thing  for  one  morning!  Dear  me,  how  you  do 
vex  yourself  over  trifles!" 

"Perhaps  the  meeting  was  fortuitous?"  she  replied, 
with  resolute  incredulity. 

"Extremely  so!"  Loic  declared.  "Oh,  you  needn't 
shrug  your  shoulders,  for  that's  a  very  accurate  descrip- 
tion of  the  incident!"  Here  was  no  case,  he  thought, 
gleefully,  that  called  for  tact  or  diplomacy,  or  any  del- 
icate weapons.  Perfect  truth  could  be  used,  and  he 
would  use  it,  since  his  cause  was  so  good.  "Don't  be 
silly,  Mamma!"  he  therefore  continued,  with  entirely 
reawakened  cheerfulness.  "The  whole  thing  can  be 
stated  in  a  dozen  words — I'll  tell  you  how  it  was.  That 
woman  we  saw  yesterday  on  the  beach  is  after  an  aristo- 
cratic scalp-lock,  and  played  a  transparent  little  comedy 
for  my  especial  benefit.  Voila  tout  /" 

Genevieve  looked  at  Loic's  handsome,  bronzed  face  for 
a  moment  in  silence.  She  was  not  to  be  so  easily  appeased. 

"You  looked  extremely  ridiculous  in  your  r61e  as 
rescuer,"  she  stated,  sarcastically. 

"I  know.  Thank  you  for  reminding  me  of  it,  since 
it  also  happens  to  be  my  opinion,"  he  mildly  acquiesced; 
"but  if  you  could  only  have  seen  the  victim!"  and  he 
choked  violently  for  the  second  time. 

"What  a  terrible  noise  you  make,  Loic!"  Genevieve 
cried,  impatiently.  "  Had  I  not  better  rise  and  pat  you 
on  the  back?  We'll  have  to  pack  up  and  leave  here 
if  the  p£ronelles  of  this  sylvan  solitude  begin  to  run 
after  you — as  that  class  of  women  seems  to  do  every- 
where else,  alas!" 

243 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

Genevieve  firmly  held — and  with  some  reason — the 
creed  that  under  such  circumstances  mockery  was  the 
tone  best  calculated  to  bring  about  a  crushing  finale,  but, 
like  many  other  creeds,  it  does  not  suit  all  personalities 
alike.  To  Loic  mockery  was  particularly  obnoxious, 
especially  now,  when  he  was  inclined  to  be  self-righteous- 
ly  full  of  his  innocence. 

"You  may  otherwise  be  forced  to  add  to  your  luggage 
a  trunkful  of  photographs,  locks  of  hair,  and  other  keep- 
sakes," she  went  on,  perversely,  driving  the  "fatal  ex- 
ception" up  to  the  hilt  in  her  own  cause.  "Of  course  it 
must  be  rather  lonely  here  for  such  a  Don  Juan  as  you, 
and,  after  all,  the  eminently  desirable  affairs  I  can  now 
clearly  see  peeping  above  your  horizon  will  make  your 
stay  much  livelier.  In  a  series  the  viands  will  doubtless 
prove  delicious!  Or  shall  we  say  a  hash  made  up  of 
native  remnants  and  warmed  over  for  your  especial  sake  ? 
Un  agreable  ragotit,  mixed  as  my  metaphors!" 

Loic  laughed  quite  as  if  he  was  not  annoyed,  but  he 
was  sitting  as  stiff  as  a  poker  in  his  chair,  and  there  was 
a  queer,  intermittent  light  in  his  eyes  like  flashes  of  pre- 
cursory lightning.  The  joke  was  becoming  a  sultry  one. 

"You're  very  foolish  this  morning,"  he  said,  with,  for 
him,  incredible  rudeness.  "That  is  not  the  way  a  mother 
should  speak,  I  assure  you." 

Genevieve  was  momentarily  at  a  loss  how  to  deal  with 
such  outrageous  outspokenness.  "Do  you  intend  to  per- 
fect my  maternal  education?"  she  sneered.  "That's 
very  thoughtful  of  you!  I  don't  want  to  make  things 
unpleasant  excepting  you  force  me  to  do  so,  and  if  you 
promise  me  never  to  speak  to  that  woman  again  I'll 
let  the  incident  drop,  but  not  otherwise." 

"You  are  extraordinarily  kind,'"  Loic  muttered,  get- 
ting quickly  out  of  his  chair  and  standing  before  the 

244 


THE    TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

window  in  a  very  rigid  and  uncompromising  attitude. 
His  good  resolutions  were  rapidly  taking  flight.  "  I  don't 
want  to  be  again  treated  like  a  little  boy  who's  been 
caught  stealing  a  pot  of  jam,  and,  what's  more,  I  can  take 
care  of  myself  here  or  anywhere  else.  I  hope  you  don't 
mind  my  speaking  straight  out  what  I  think?  No? 
Well,  before  my  departure  for  America  you  interfered 
in  a  most  unwarrantable  manner  in  matters  you  should 
have  pretended  to  ignore — I  dare  say  from  excellent  mo- 
tives— but  still  it  did  great  harm.  Now,  pray  remember 
that  we  came  here  to  have  a  rustic  little  time  all  by  our- 
selves and  that  you  promised  not  to  quarrel  with  me. 
That  I  must  hold  you  to.  I'm  not  eager  to  speak  to 
anybody,  as  you  have  been  already  able  to  see,  but 
neither  am  I  going  to  give  any  ridiculous  promises." 

Genevieve's  reflections  were  not  enviable.  She  saw 
that  she  had  conjured  up  one  of  Loic's  most  uncomfort- 
able and  angular  moods.  Just  then  he  was  all  elbows — 
mentally  considered — all  elbows  and  unbending  joints; 
but,  as  usual,  when  anger  had  the  better  of  her,  all  the 
tact,  the  finesse,  and  the  diplomacy  with  which  she 
usually  conducted  her  worldly  affairs  deserted  her,  and 
she  made  yet  another  faux  pas. 

41  We  will  continue  as  we  began,  then,  and  you  will  not 
speak  to  a  soul,"  she  said,  brutally,  "or  else  I'll  go  away 
and  leave  you  to  rusticate  with  your  choice  new  ac- 
quaintances." 

Loic  frowned,  but  by  a  strong  effort  he  conquered  the 
bitter  words  rising  in  his  throat  and  decided  to  try  a 
little  coaxing.  Really,  it  was  ridiculous  to  let  her  go  on 
like  that  and  risk  a  new  falling-out  for  so  paltry  a  cause. 

"Will  you  be  good?"  he  therefore  banteringly  ex- 
claimed, catching  both  her  little  wrists  in  one  of  his 
strong  hands  and  looking  laughingly  into  her  fierce  eyes. 

245 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

"You  must  behave  nicely,  Madame  ma  Mere,  and  give 
me  a  good  example.  Our  life  hitherto  has  been  a  series 
of  mistakes.  Don't  let's  begin  again.  So  run  along 
now,  put  on  your  habit,  and  we'll  go  for  a  gallop  on  the 
downs.  Why  should  we  stay  here  squabbling  when 
there  are  lovely  empty  dunes  and  a  great,  exhilarating 
sea-wind  within  a  yard  of  us  ?  He  bent  quickly,  kissed 
both  the  slender  wrists  he  still  held,  and,  playfully  lifting 
her  from  her  chair,  carried  her  like  a  feather  to  the  door 
of  her  dressing-room,  calling  out  as  she  disappeared 
within,  a  momentarily  conquered  woman:  "Make  haste! 
Wind  and  tide  don't  wait  for  peevish  Marchionesses!" 

"I've  mastered  him!"  Genevieve  thought,  exultantly, 
even  while  she  quickly  obeyed  him.  "  Mon  Dient  what 
a  strong,  handsome  fellow  he  is!  No  wonder  women 
fall  in  love  with  him  at  first  sight!  He  lifted  me  as  if  I 
did  not  weigh  an  ounce,  and  yesterday  how  he  raised  from 
the  ground  that  orange -tree  and  its  tub  that  four  men 
could  not  succeed  in  putting  into  place,  and  without  the 
slightest  effort,  too!  He  is  very  much  like  his  father." 

For  a  moment  she  fancied  that  she  was  twenty  years 
younger,  in  the  great  park  at  Kergoat,  with  her  lord's 
handsome  eyes  looking  down  tenderly  at  her.  "He 
used  to  be  so  fond  of  me,  poor  fellow!"  she  mused,  co- 
quettishly  fastening  her  faultless  riding -hat  before  the 
glass.  He  lay  in  his  grave  by  the  restless  Breton  sea, 
and  she  seldom  remembered  him  now,  but  still  he  had 
loved  her  as  no  one  else  ever  had,  and  somehow  she  sud- 
denly felt  a  tinge  and  twinge  of  regret. 

"Poor  Loic!"  she  murmured,  softly,  to  herself,  and  so 
went  to  join  his  son,  who,  by  a  time-honored  family 
tradition,  had  been  called  after  him. 

It  had  been  an  unusually  warm  morning,  but  now  a 
cool  wind  was  blowing  from  the  sea,  the  whole  land 

246 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

was  enmeshed  in  a  web  of  gold,  and  high  in  the  zenith  a 
few  feathers  of  snowy  cloud  floated  on  the  deep,  azure 
sky.  The  tide  was  on  the  ebb,  and  the  smooth,  hard 
sand  of  the  lower  beach,  still  wet  from  its  recent  retreat, 
made  an  ideal  riding-track. 

Quite  reassured  and  proportionately  exuberant,  Gen- 
evieve  sat  graceful  and  lithe  in  her  saddle,  breathing 
deep  of  the  vivifying  air,  in  a  fever  of  high  spirits  and 
really  sparkling  with  wit  and  brilliant  repartee.  She  took 
infinite  pains  to  make  herself  agreeable,  and  was  amply 
repaid,  for  their  bonne  entente  rose  in  crescendo  with 
more  frequent  bursts  of  laughter  as  they  raced  side  by 
side  on  the  broad,  shining,  ripple-fringed  sand  strip. 

Loic  rode  his  favorite  hunter,  Cceur  de  Roi,  an  ex- 
tremely difficult  animal  with  high  breeding  in  every 
line  of  him,  bright  chestnut  in  color,  darkening  well  at 
all  points,  with  firm  muscles  quivering  beneath  the  satiny 
skin,  and  a  small,  lean  head  incredibly  intelligent  and 
eager.  His  rider  could  not  let  him  go  to  his  full  will,  for, 
although  Genevieve's  horse  was  plentifully  provided  with 
good  racing  strain  and  reckless  dash,  he  could  not  have 
held  his  own  with  a  "crack"  fit  to  win  the  Derby,  and 
thus  Cceur  de  Roi  champed  impatiently  at  the  snaffle 
and  fretted  a  little,  his  delicate  ears  twitching  nervously 
with  a  great  desire  to  be  let  into  his  greyhound  stride  and  to 
sweep  out  till  his  neat  hoofs  hardly  touched  the  level  sands. 

This  sort  of  thing  made  Loic's  heart  beat  fast  with  a 
sort  of  headlong  delight  as  his  knees  pressed  closer  into 
the  magnificent  hunter's  flanks,  though  his  face  remained 
very  quiet.  Surely  a  minute  of  life  like  this  was  worth 
ten  years  of  ordinary  jogging,  and,  bending  forward,  he 
patted  the  glossy  neck  caressingly,  murmuring  quite  un- 
consciously, "Was  there  ever  a  woman  half  worth  a  per- 
fect horse?" 

247 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

Genevieve  burst  into  merry  laughter.  "Ha!"  she 
cried,  saucily,  "I'm  charmed  to  hear  you  say  that,  tout 
amour-propre  d  part,  because  I'm  very  much  of  your 
opinion!" 

Inwardly  Loic  made  a  swift  reservation  in  favor  of 
Gaidik,  who  he  confessed  to  himself  was  better  even  than 
any  perfect  horse — a  great  concession  in  a  man  so  pas- 
sionately fond  of  the  equine  race. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Mamma,"  he  laughingly  apolo- 
gized. "  I  did  not  realize  that  I'd  been  speaking  aloud. 
How  you  would  enjoy  the  West,  though!  There  is  noth- 
ing over  here  that  can  outshine  the  sensations  one  ex- 
periences there.  To  run  after  a  bunch  of  unbroken 
horses  that  won't  be  caught,  no  matter  who  throws  the 
rope,  is  something  to  live  for.  Our  ponies,  too — they  were 
little  dandies,  wise  and  quick  on  their  feet  and  alive 
with  enthusiasm.  You  should  have  seen  them  at  work! 
No  feint  hoodwinked  them,  and  the  immense  seriousness 
of  purpose  they  displayed  made  the  matter  sometimes 
one  of  high  comedy,  and,  flink! — ah,  nothing  but  light- 
ning could  be  quicker;  their  muscles  fairly  flowed  under 
their  skins!" 

"And  tell  me,  Loic,  was  it  the  ponies  alone  you  ad- 
mired out  West?"  Genevieve  asked,  teasingly,  her  big, 
black  eyes  flashing  mischief  at  him. 

"Why,  no,"  he  replied,  slackening  the  pace  and  turn- 
ing in  his  saddle  almost  to  face  her.  "I  made  many 
good  friends  there.  The  punchers,  most  of  them,  are  as 
interesting  and  lovable  as  the  ponies.  It's  all  very  well 
to  talk  of  gentlemen,  but  I  truly  believe  that  the  only 
place  where  the  genuine  article  is  still  to  be  found  is  on 
the  plains.  They  speak  another  language  than  ours — 
in  more  senses  than  one — but  theirs  is  the  winning  one 
in  my  opinion." 

248 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

"And  the  feminine  contingent?"  she  questioned,  with 
half-closed  lids,  smoothing  her  horse's  mane  with  her 
platinum-topped  riding-stick. 

"That's  a  different  affair.  On  the  plains — I  mean  at 
the  frontier  —  there  are  no  women  at  all,  and  in  the 
clusters  of  wooden  shanties  which  do  duty  for  towns  out 
there,  and  are  usually  glorified  by  such  euphonic  appel- 
lations as  Frozen  Dog,  or  Panther  Creek,  or  something 
equally  simple  and  striking,  the  woman  is  merely — the — 
female  of  man." 

"Not  very  dangerous,  then!"  she  laughed. 

"  Oh,  it  depends  —  sometimes  —  I'heure  —  I' occasion — 
rherbe  tendre,  vide  old  Lafontaine.  You  see,  it's  all 
according  to  the  point  of  view  and  the  state  of  one's 
mind." 

"Your  state  of  mind,  methinks,  is  always  un  reassuring 
on  that  score,"  she  observed,  with  a  mocking  little  wink, 
"but  I'm  trusting  to  your  promise  now,  so  let's  be  off 
towards  our  lunch."  And,  touching  her  hunter  with  her 
tiny  spur,  she  set  off  like  a  whirlwind,  while  he,  playfully 
threatening  her  with  an  upraised  finger,  cried  after  her: 

"You  perverse  woman,  you  know  that  I  promised 
nothing!" 

When  people  are  in  good  temper  such  sayings  become 
of  notable  insignificance,  but  subsequently  Genevieve  was 
destined  often  bitterly  to  remember  that  particular  one. 

Just  then,  however,  Loic's  straightforward,  wholesome 
soul  was  brimming  full  of  fun — the  little  scene  of  the 
morning  was  forgotten — and  the  ingredients  of  his 
thoughts  were  amusement,  joie-de-vivre,  and  hope  for  the 
future.  Being  no  analyst  of  self,  he  could  not  have 
said  which  one  preponderated,  but  what  he  knew  per- 
fectly well  was  that  he  felt  uncommonly  " fit"  and  happy, 
and  that  Gaidik's  absence  was  the  only  shadow  in  the 

17  249 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

picture.  So  on  they  flew,  covering  mile  after  mile  at 
the  same  swallow-like  pace  until  Cceur  de  Roi  undertook 
to  display  his  theatrical  talents.  Some  pigs  and  sheep 
suddenly  hove  in  sight,  trotting  peacefully  down  a  nar- 
row bramble-bordered  path  leading  to  the  beach.  Cceur 
de  Roi  had  witnessed  similar  processions  since  his  ten- 
derest  youth,  but  probably  out  of  revenge  for  the  com- 
parative inaction  and  decorum  forced  upon  him  during 
the  preceding  hours,  he  treated  it  as  an  altogether  ter- 
rifying and  unusual  spectacle.  Down  went  his  lean, 
aristocratic  head,  and  after  standing  stock-still  for  two 
full  seconds,  as  if  unable  to  take  in  at  one  glance  the  full 
horror  of  the  apparition,  he  reared  straight  on  end, 
twisted  himself  round,  and  bolted. 

That  particular  portion  of  the  beach  unfortunately 
abounded  with  steep  banks  and  rocky  outcrops,  where 
a  fall  would  have  been  a  precarious  venture  for  horse  and 
rider,  but  Loic  steered  the  crazed  animal  straight  past 
the  latter  and  over  the  former  with  amazing  skill,  al- 
lowed him  to  dash  at  speed  up  a  narrow,  meandering 
path  between  two  thickets  of  whin,  and  finally  managed 
triumphantly  to  land  him  in  the  midst  of  a  dense  growth 
of  young  sand-pines,  which,  enmeshing  the  culprit's  legs, 
brought  him  to  a  harmless  and  inglorious  standstill. 
That  feat  accomplished,  Loic  bent  over  and  contem- 
plated the  quaking,  trembling,  lather  -  drenched  animal, 
in  whom  all  ambition  seemed  to  have  been  suddenly 
extinguished,  and  muttered  reproachfully  but  in  his  gen- 
tlest tones:  "You  silly  fool,  you  ought  to  get  an  A  num- 
ber one  thrashing  for  this,  but  it  wouldn't  do  you  any 
good  at  all,  so  get  yourself  out  of  here  and  try  to  be- 
have a  bit.  This  must  be  your  off  day." 

Truly  Cceur  de  Roi  extricated  himself  from  the  baby 
pines  and  tall  genesta  bushes  as  if  he  were  a  model 

250 


THE   TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

of  discretion,  and  was  looking  as  demure  and  mincing  as 
a  dancing-master  when  he  was  rejoined  by  his  stable- 
comrade,  arriving  at  full  tilt  with  an  extraordinarily 
irate  lady  on  his  back. 

"That's  a  nice  trick  he  played  you!"  she  cried,  pulling 
up  alongside.  "  I  hope  you  thrashed  him  soundly.  He's 
been  working  for  this  the  whole  morning." 

"No,  I  didn't;  I  don't  cut  horses  to  ribbons  for  a  tri- 
fling bit  of  temper,"  Loic  answered,  calmly ;  "and,  what's 
more,  I'm  inclined  to  forgive  a  good  horse  anything." 

"Nonsense!  I'd  flay  him  alive,"  she  hissed,  through 
clinched  teeth,  furious  at  the  fright  she  had  sustained, 
"I'd  give  him  a  bucketing  that  would  take  the  fine  edge 
off  his  temper  for  a  couple  of  weeks  at  least." 

"  No,  you  wouldn't,"  Loic  quietly  responded,  once  more 
setting  Cceur  de  Roi  going,  and,  in  order  to  cut  short 
all  further  recriminations,  he  began  to  sing  in  his  me- 
lodious barytone: 

"A-workin'  in  de  cotton-fields, 
Ah  really  thought  A'd  die; 
De  sun  so  hot,  Ah  froze  to  deff — 
Susannah,  don't  you  cry!" 

"You  are  the  most  exasperating  boy,  sometimes!" 
Genevieve  exclaimed,  irritably — "simply  odious!" 

But  Loic  was  not  to  be  interrupted  thus,  and  the  chorus 
of  his  song  went  flying  down -wind  like  a  silver  arrow: 

"Oh,  Susannah  I 

Don't  you  cry  for  me; 
Ah'm  gwine  to  Louisiana, 

Wid  mah  banjo  on  man  knee!" 

This  persistence  made  Genevieve  slow  down  and  give 
him  an  offended  look  intended  to  rebuke  his  levity, 

251 


THE   TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

"Nice  song,  that!"  she  observed,  dryly.  "Know  any 
more  of  it?" 

"Loads!"  Loic  replied,  with  feeling.  "You  just  see! 
When  we  get  home  I'll  haul  out  my  banjo  and  give  you 
the  rest  to  put  you  in  a  good  temper.  It's  much  jollier 
than  your  grand  melodies  made  in  Germany,  which  al- 
ways make  me  ready  to  cry  for  something  I've  forgotten 
all  about." 

"Loic!"  Genevieve  expostulated,  really  shocked,  for 
he  was  passionately  fond  of  really  fine  music,  as  she  well 
knew,  and  she  herself  was  what  since  his  return  from 
the  States  he  termed  a  regular  "crank"  on  the  subject. 

She  would  have  provoked  a  discussion  of  the  subject, 
but  at  that  moment,  turning  into  the  last  bend  before 
reaching  the  hotel,  they  came  abruptly  face  to  face  with 
two  feminine  figures  which  could  scarcely  have  produced 
a  greater  effect  upon  Genevieve  if  they  had  sported  Gor- 
gon heads  —  to  wit,  the  fair  Inconnue  of  yesterday  and 
her  inseparable  and  somewhat  gawky  offspring,  both 
gorgeously  apparelled  in  pink  and  white  and  azure,  with 
such  an  abundance  of  fluttering  laces  and  streaming 
ribbons  that  Cceur  de  Roi  shied  and  gave  for  a  second 
time  unmistakable  evidences  of  a  desire  to  bolt. 

As  they  caught  sight  of  the  Kergoats  they  hurried  for- 
ward in  vast  excitement,  stumbling  awkwardly  over  the 
loose  gravel  in  their  agitation ,  and  courtesied  to  the  ground. 
Genevieve  lifted  her  purely  ornamental  eye-glass  to  the 
bridge  of  her  delicate  nose,  stared,  her  cold  eyes  imper- 
tinently opened  to  their  widest  extent  as  if  she  could 
scarcely  believe  their  testimony,  and  then  turned  her 
head  away  with  the  air  of  one  who  has  just  seen  a  wholly 
disgusting  object,  while  Loic,  inwardly  cursing,  hastily 
removed  his  hat. 

"Damn  it!"  he  ejaculated,  as  soon  as  they  were  out  of 

252 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

earshot  of  the  two  women,  who  had  turned  scarlet;  "you 
are  really  too  bad,  Mamma!"  He  was  very  angry. 

Genevieve  transferred  her  indignant  looks  to  him  at 
once.  She  did  not  like  this  rough  and  blunt  way  of  put- 
ting things.  It  was  a  Kergoat  habit  which  she  herself 
adopted  when  she  felt  like  it,  but  so  much  the  less  did 
that  make  her  admire  it  in  others.  So  she  asked,  severely, 
looking  at  him  with  unutterable  scorn,  "Why — because 
I  won't  consent  to  admire  such  guys  for  your  sake?" 

"Not  at  all,"  he  answered,  curtly,  "but  because  there 
is  no  sense  in  being  so  incredibly  rude  to  perfectly  harm- 
less people."  And  as  they  had  now  reached  the  hotel 
porch,  he  helped  her  to  alight,  threw  the  reins  of  both 
horses  to  the  waiting  groom,  and  silently  followed  her 
up-stairs  and  into  the  sitting-room. 

"I  know  all  you're  going  to  say,"  she  declared  im- 
mediately, dashing  her  stick  and  gloves  on  a  table  with 
extraordinary  violence,  "but  you  may  as  well  hold  your 
tongue.  You  used  to  make  your  sister  dance  to  your 
piping,  but  you  won't  make  me,  so  you  need  not  think 
that  you'll  ever  ram  those  she-beasts  down  my  throat. 
You'll  have  to  leave  me  out  of  such  combinations,  if  you 
please." 

"  Is  that  the  tone  you  mean  to  take  with  me  ?"  he  asked, 
sitting  down  on  the  edge  of  the  table  and  looking  her 
straight  in  the  eyes. 

"Certainly,  if  you  don't  pull  up  and  change  your  at- 
titude. I've  warned  you  once  already,  so  don't  be  an 
ass,  Loic!  I,  for  my  part,  don't  propose  to  see  you  sink 
back  into  your  old  ways,  and  let  me  tell  you  candidly 
that  you're  on  the  high-road  to  it." 

Loic's  face  darkened.  "  Don't  be  silly!"  he  said,  frown- 
ing. "You  know  very  well  that  it  was  not  worthy  of 
you  to  cut  those  wretched  women  as  you  did,  and  I  wish 

253 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

you   wouldn't   make   me   all   these   scenes.     Good   God! 
you'll  end  by  making  me  regret  that  I  ever  came  back!" 

"Are  you  yearning  for  your  'outfit' — as  you  call  it—- 
that you  named  after  Gaidik  ?"  she  demanded,  tauntingly. 

"Upon  my  word!"  he  cried,  thoroughly  exasperated. 
"Talk  of  the  rows  made  by  jealous  mistresses!  Why, 
they  are  milk  and  water  to  this." 

"Well,  if  they  have  as  much  provocation  as  I  have,  I 
can't  blame  them!"  Genevieve  continued,  fiercely.  "Men 
like  you  are  enough  to  exasperate  any  woman.  You  cut 
your  own  throat  every  hour  in  the  day,  and  think  your- 
self all  the  better  for  it.  You  will  listen  to  no  reasoning, 
obey  no  dictates  save  your  own,  and  you  think  that  you 
can  have  your  own  way  always,  always,  always!"  She 
spoke  with  bitter  emphasis,  her  transparent  little  nostrils 
dilated,  her  lips  curled  back  ferociously,  her  eyes  emit- 
ting positive  fire-sparks,  and  Loic,  looking  at  her,  felt  a 
sinking  of  the  heart. 

"I  don't  know,"  he  said,  wearily,  "why  I  should  stand 
such  bullying,  and  for  nothing,  too." 

"Bullying?  What  do  you  mean?"  she  interrupted. 
"Are  you  too  hopelessly  dull  to  see  that  I'm  only  speak- 
ing in  your  best  interest,  warning  you  of  the  pitfalls  that 
have  come  near  to  destroying  you  a  hundred  times  al- 
ready ?  You're  enough  to  make  me  give  up  ever  saying 
a  word  to  you  at  all." 

"  I  trust  you  will  if  it  makes  you  fly  at  me  like  this. 
It  is  really  awful  to  have  one's  nose  bitten  oft  a  dozen 
times  a  day  through  no  fault  of  one's  own."  His  patience 
was  now  nearly  gone,  and  no  wonder. 

"Very  well,  I'll  say  no  more,  if  that's  the  way  you 
take  it — excepting  this:  If  you  get  into  a  fresh  scrape, 
I  tell  you  frankly  I  shall  not  help  you  out  of  it  this  time. 
These  intrigues  of  yours  are  positive  quicksands  in  which 

254 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

you  flounder  and  sink  until  pulled  out  by  main  force. 
If  you  are  going  to  jump  into  a  new  one  now,  don't  ex- 
pect me  to  throw  you  a  rope — that's  all.  I'll  let  you  be 
sucked  down  without  the  slightest  remorse.  I  hope  you 
comprehend,"  she  repeated,  stamping  her  foot,  "although 
to  speak  to  you  is  just  as  profitable  as  attempting  to 
fill  a  sieve  with  water.  You  have  a  morality  altogether 
your  own,  which  reflects  no  sort  of  credit  upon  its  in-* 
ventor,  and  a  stubbornness  equal  to  that  of  a  vicious 
mule.  I  don't  envy  your  wife,  if  you  ever  marry.  She'll 
be  a  perfect  martyr,  that's  what  she'll  be!" 

Loic's  ears  were  tingling  as  if  he  had  just  had  them 
boxed;  honest  anger  absolutely  prevented  him  from  say- 
ing a  word  in  reply,  and  for  the  life  of  him  he  could  not 
imagine  what  had  stung  his  mother  so. 

As  was  his  wont  when,  really  angry,  he  appeared  more 
than  usually  impassive,  but  inside  he  was  boiling  with 
rage  and  mortification ;  the  more  hotly  because  he  had 
so  solemnly  promised  himself  not  to  follow  her  any  more 
upon  the  squabbling  terrain  which  she  so  dearly  loved. 
All  his  life  long  people  had  found  it  advisable  to  be  cir- 
cumspect in  their  mode  of  addressing  him,  and,  except- 
ing the  captain  of  the  Gaston- Auger,  no  one  but  this 
mother — who  pretended  to  love  him  so  passionately — had 
ever  handled  him .  with  such  brutality;  no,  not  even 
when,  a  wofully  helpless  tenderfoot,  he  was  serving  his 
apprenticeship  as  a  cowboy,  getting  up  in  the  dark, 
bitter  winter  mornings  to  pitchfork  the  bedding  out  of 
the  stables,  had  he  been  thus  spoken  to,  thus  humiliated! 
He  felt  that  she  was  trying  to  make  him  absurd,  odious, 
contemptible  in  his  own  sight.  Afraid  to  trust  himself 
to  speak,  he  slowly  lighted  a  cigarette,  and  began  to  fol- 
low with  sleepy  eyes  the  smoke-rings  he  carelessly  blew 
into  the  air. 

255 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

This  was  too  much  for  Genevieve.  This  calm,  out- 
wardly quite  impervious  to  insult,  seemed  to  her  intoler- 
ably insolent,  but  that  he  should  even  refuse  to  fight 
was  absolutely  insupportable,  and,  suddenly  pushing  past 
him,  she  rushed  through  the  door-curtains  and  noisily 
locked  herself  up  in  her  room. 


XIII 

Tongues  of  sombre  flame 
Vain  regret  doth  mark, 

In  the  dark, 

Whispering,  "  Once  a  spark 
Were  we  I"     Oh,  the  shame, 

The  cruel  blame! 

The  sad  heart  doth  hark 

In  the  dark! 

The  Clock,  II.— M.  M. 

IT  was  Sunday  morning — an  exquisite  Sunday  morning, 
graced  by  a  brilliant  sun,  a  gentle  sea-breeze  laden  with 
wholesome,  briny  smells,  and  an  unruffled  sea  of  a  very 
dark  blue,  plentifully  besprinkled  with  shifting,  dancing 
lights.  Summer  had  now  definitely  given  place  to  the 
mellow  Vendeen  autumn  which  ever  testifies  to  an  honest 
desire  of  making  itself  agreeable.  A  soft  haze  of  ethe- 
realized  moisture  hung  over  the  distant  marshes,  and  the 
gorse  and  bracken  made  great  pools  of  gold  above  the 
gently  undulating  dunes. 

For  a  few  days  a  surprising  peace  had  reigned  between 
Loic  and  his  mother,  thanks  to  his  untiring  efforts  to 
please  her  in  all  things.  It  had  long  been  a  maxim  with 
him  that  courtesy  is  one  of  the  greatest  duties  which  one 
owes  to  those  with  whom  one  is  most  intimate,  besides 
which  he  wisely  foresaw  that  life  would  become  absolutely 
impossible  if  he  did  not  humor  her  every  whim ;  so,  though 
promising  himself  to  shorten  as  much  as  he  could  a  tete-a 
tete  which  seemed  to  create  so  many  occasions  of  quarrel, 

257 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

he  showed  a  constantly  smiling  and  cheerful  face,  and 
devoted  his  entire  time  to  her  amusement.  But  she  was 
not  satisfied  even  so.  She  was  certain  that  so  much 
amiability  must  needs  conceal  abysses  of  deceit. 

That  very  morning  she  had  developed  at  breakfast  a 
strange  and  unexplained  desire  to  shun  the  pretty,  square- 
towered  gray  church,  where,  since  her  arrival,  she  always 
heard  mass — driving  thither  with  Loic  along  a  delicious 
mossy  road  bordered  by  thick  fields  of  heather — and  had 
entreated  him  to  go  without  her,  urging  that  it  was  the 
duty  of  the  higher  classes  to  give  a  good  example,  and 
deluging  him  with  such  a  flood  of  proverbial  philosophy 
that  to  church  Loic  had  actually  gone,  although  rather 
surprised  at  this  latest  fancy;  for,  since  their  last  grand 
scene,  his  maternal  tyrant  had  scarcely  allowed  him  to 
be  for  five  minutes  together  out  of  her  immediate  neigh- 
borhood. 

Hardly  had  he  disappeared  than  Genevieve,  fresh-faced 
as  a  baby  after  its  bath,  and  dressed  with  exquisite  sim- 
plicity in  pearl-gray  etamine,  rustled  across  her  dressing- 
room,  caught  up  one  of  her  favorite  lace  mantillas  from 
the  sofa,  and  hurried  out  by  the  side  entrance,  humming, 
as  she  went,  under  her  breath: 

"Voulez-vous  entendre 
Comment  ?a  finit, 

Mon  ami! 
Comment  ?a  finit  1 
C'est  la  pie  au  nid 
Qu'il  faut  prendre, 
C'est  la  pie  au  nid, 

Mon  ami  I" 

She  considered  this  old  Breton  refrain  extraordinarily 
appropriate  to  the  present  occasion,  and  her  sotto-voce 
rendering  of  it  was,  therefore,  downright  "vicious"— if 
one  may  thus  express  it — vicious  and  full  of  meaning: 

258 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

"C'est  la  pie  au  nid 
Qu'il  faut  prendre, 
C'est  la  pie  au  nid, 
Mon  ami!" 

Yes,  she  intended  to  catch  la  pie  au  nid  —  the  wily 
magpie — napping. 

It  had  naturally  been  a  nuisance,  during  the  last  few 
days,  to  curb  her  tongue  and  make  a  lot  of  nasty  little 
secret  inquiries;  which  had  permitted  her — or,  at  least, 
so  she  thought — to  peep  with  X-ray  precision  at  what 
she  fancied  to  be  the  very  bones  of  the  situation. 

To  be  sure,  she  had  as  yet  been  quite  unable  to  sub- 
stantiate her  deeply  rooted  belief  that  Loic  was  playing 
her  false,  but  the  idea  that  there  was  something  wrong 
going  on  behind  her  back  roused  in  her  a  kind  of  frenzy, 
emphasized  tenfold  by  Loic's  extraordinary  quietness 
and  pliability.  All  this  made  her  as  nervous  as  a  cat, 
and  her  hand  trembled  a  little  as  she  opened  her  sun- 
shade and  set  off  to  undertake  a  fine,  bold  piece  of  de- 
tective work,  for  she  at  one  and  the  same  time  hoped  and 
feared  to  make  some  important  discovery.  So  wrought 
up  was  she,  indeed,  that  the  idea  of  spying  upon  her  son 
did  not  seem  to  her  in  any  way  a  discreditable  proceeding. 
She  put  it  to  herself  that  it  was  her  bounden  duty  to 
verify  her  suspicions,  to  forestall  any  manoeuvres  on  the 
part  of  the  obnoxious  Inconnue,  and  thus,  quite  blind 
to  the  questionable  taste  of  her  proceedings,  she  hurried 
along,  shaking  with  suppressed  excitement. 

This  obnoxious  female  was,  she  had  discovered,  the 
very  consolable  widow  of  a  capitaine  cabotteur  (master 
of  a  small  trading-schooner),  one  Billot  by  name,  who 
had,  some  years  before,  succumbed  to  the  dread  clutches 
of  delirium  tremens.  The  most  vivid  imagination  could 
not  conceive  a  more  obvious  type  of  consolable  widow; 

2S9 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

moreover,  she  was  about  thirty-five,  and,  as  has  been 
above  reported,  she  had  a  very  pretty  face  and  figure. 
Her  inseparable  daughter,  aged  seventeen,  was  not  by 
any  means  as  good-looking,  possessing  a  snub  nose,  large, 
pale-blue  eyes — in  no  way  beautiful,  but  misleadingly 
innocent  of  expression — looking  out  from  under  a  typi- 
cally unintellectual  forehead  and  an  elaborate  tangle  of 
brown  curls.  Nature  had  never  turned  out,  even  in  her 
most  humorous  moments,  a  mother  and  daughter  more 
dissimilar  —  physically  at  least  —  for  in  other  respects 
they  had  many  points  of  resemblance.  The  fact  that 
they  both  had  exquisite  pink  -  and  -  white  complexions 
and  admirable  teeth  created  an  impression  of  likeness 
that  totally  disappeared  at  a  second  glance,  and  served 
only  to  emphasize  their  essential  difference  of  type. 

Madame  Billot  possessed  great  perspicuity,  and,  in 
many  ways,  was  a  remarkably  clever  woman.  As  soon 
as  a  benevolent  Fate  had  rid  her  of  her  drunken  and 
brutal  spouse,  she  had  made  up  her  mind  that  she  was  not 
going  to  revolve  for  the  remainder  of  her  natural  life  in 
the  humble  circles  to  which  she  had  been  born,  and  in 
spite  of  her  lamentable  lack  of  distinction  she  had  already 
managed  to  ascend  several  rungs  of  the  ladder  above 
that  assigned  to  her  by  a  just  and  discerning  Providence ; 
but  Rose  was  a  colorless  sort  of  girl,  a  convenient  foil  to 
this  gay  little  mother,  and,  after  a  fashion,  a  chaperone 
with  whom  she  could  in  all  propriety  embark  upon  many 
adventures  impossible  for  a  "lone,  lorn  widow"  to  under- 
take in  straitlaced  provincial  France  without  her  entirely 
losing  what  caste  she  may  possess. 

These  facts,  collected  with  infinite  patience  by  Gene- 
vieve,  passed  vaguely  through  her  mind  as  she  hastened 
silent-footed  over  the  short  salt-grass  behind  a  hedge  of 
tall  furze.  Two  merrily  hopping  sand -pipers  turned 

260 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

wary  eyes  skyward  at  her  approach,  and  with  a  sud- 
den whir  of  their  tiny  wings  followed  their  tentative 
glances  into  the  ether;  but  little  did  the  Marquise  heed 
their  graceful  antics.  Her  ire  had  been  aroused  by  what 
she  called  the  Billot  woman's  simpering  finesses;  and, 
being  naturally  of  a  passionate  and  somewhat  vindictive 
disposition,  the  mere  fact  that  this  person  dared  to  cast 
her  nets  around  Loic  set  her  revolving  all  sorts  of  im- 
practicable schemes  of  vengeance.  The  thought  of  his 
own  discomfiture,  if  she  could  catch  him  flagrantly  dis- 
obeying her  orders,  was  just  then  sweet  to  her  taste, 
and  from  past  experience  in  similar  affairs  she  had  a  sort 
of  serene  confidence  that,  given  the  opportunity,  such 
would  be  the  case — hence  her  refusal  to  accompany  him 
to  church! 

She  walked  quickly  along  for  some  twenty  minutes, 
following  the  screened  path  which  would  lead  her  pres- 
ently to  the  little  house  where  the  Billots  had  rented 
rooms — a  little  house  owned  by  a  fisherman  rather  better 
off  than  his  brother  sea-toilers,  and  which  stood  in  the 
middle  of  a  neat  little  garden  sheltered  from  the  de- 
structive ocean  winds  by  an  eminently  picturesque 
thicket  of  sand -pines. 

Finally  she  turned  a  corner — the  last  before  that  "den 
of  iniquity,"  as  she  mentally  denominated  the  Billots' 
temporary  abode — gained  the  foot  of  the  ridge,  up  which 
she  climbed  breathlessly,  afraid  to  arrive  too  late — for 
on  the  mellow  air  the  Elevation  chimes  of  the  little 
church  had  long  ere  this  been  wafted  towards  her — and 
was  just  in  time  to  see,  through  the  capricious  interstices 
of  the  furze — and  that  with  extreme  distinctness — Loic's 
trap  turn  quickly  and  rather  recklessly  into  the  tiny  gate- 
way of  the  "den"  and  pull  up  sharply  before  its  honey- 
suckle-draped porch. 

261 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE  NET 

Horror  of  horrors!  Beside  Loic  sat  a  woman  in  a 
brilliant  pink  dress  and  an  immense  and  elaborate  pink 
hat,  whom  Genevieve  instantly  recognized  as  Madame 
Billot  —  daughterless  for  once!  The  Marquise's  quick 
eye  took  in  the  whole  scene  in  a  second:  the  woman's 
flamboyant  attire,  the  way  she  put  her  foot  on  the  step 
as  she  alighted,  her  giggling  graces,  all  spoke  of  a  certain 
class  abhorrent  to  her.  Ah!  how  revolting  men  were, 
and  how  unspeakably  false  and  credulous  and  imbecile! 
So  Loic  was  really  interested  in  that  "she-beast,"  and 
coquetted  with  her  in  spite  of  all  her  maternal  warnings ; 
for  there  was  no  mistaking  the  bantering  attitude  of  the 
tall,  manly  figure  in  white  serge  and  straw  hat,  the  arm 
imperceptibly  lingering  about  her  slender  waist  after 
lifting  her  down,  the  teasing,  merry  laughter  as  she  urged 
this  royal  catch  to  enter,  the  -momentary  hesitation  and 
the  final  yielding,  accompanied  by  a  well-known  little 
shrug  of  the  broad  shoulders  which  always  meant  with 
him  a  sort  of  careless  Kismet! 

It  never  occurred  to  the  infuriated  watcher  that,  after 
all,  the  whole  affair  was  so  far  perfectly  harmless  that  the 
fact  of  his  driving  the  widow  back  from  church  on  that 
sultry  morning  meant  very  little  from  a  man  like  Loic, 
and  that  if  she  willed  it  the  game  was  still  completely  in 
her  own  hands.  No!  She  accepted  the  shallow  evidence 
of  her  eyes  with  eager  avidity ;  nothing  warned  her  against 
a  too-prompt  credulity,  and  she  did  not  accord  him  even 
the  benefit  of  the  doubt.  Indeed,  a  rage  such  as  even  she 
had  never  as  yet  experienced  was  rapidly  making  her  abso- 
lutely incapable  of  any  sort  of  cool  judgment.  What- 
ever she  might  have  intended  to  do  in  the  event  of  such 
complete  success  as  she  had  just  attained,  she  was  pos- 
sessed now  by  but  one  idea,  and,  turning  on  her  heel,  she 
literally  flew  down  the  road  to  where  Loic's  groom  was 

262 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

slowly  walking  his  horses.  To  jump  in,  snatch  the  reins 
from  the  hands  of  the  amazed  man,  and  put  the  mettle- 
some cobs  to  their  best  pace  was  the  work  of  a  mere 
moment. 

"Ah!  that's  the  way,  is  it?"  she  muttered,  between 
clinched  teeth,  flicking  the  sleek  flanks  of  the  pair  of 
chestnut  beauties  with  the  whip,  quite  indifferent  whether 
the  still  gasping  servant  heard  or  not — "that's  the  way, 
is  it?  Well,  I'll  show  you  a  trick  worth  two  of  that,  my 
dutiful  son!" 

She  was  completely  beside  herself,  recking  nothing  of 
consequences,  and  in  a  mood  to  kill  had  she  at  that  mo- 
ment come  face  to  face  with  the  cause  of  all  this  disturb- 
ance. How  sincerely  she  envied  those  women  of  ruder 
ages  who  could  hire  bravoes  to  rid  them  of  what  they 
loathed,  none  but  herself  knew.  Willingly  would  she 
have  paid  a  heavy  price  to  see  this  unutterable  widow 
dead;  but,  alas,  she  lived  in  a  world  in  which  such  deeds 
seemed  impossible,  and  she  laughed  a  bitter  little  laugh 
of  regret  and  misery. 

To  have  -reconquered  her  Loic,  and  to  feel  him  once 
more  slipping  through  her  fingers,  was  a  torture  too 
great  for  her  to  endure.  Would  this  coarse,  common, 
hideous  creature  succeed  in  robbing  her  of  him,  be  it  but 
for  a  few  weeks?  Her  overwrought  imagination  saw 
ahead  of  her,  difficulties  without  number  arising  like 
sharp  stones  on  an  endless  road,  and  her  tortured  pride 
of  race  and  of  motherhood  writhed  like  some  delicate 
creature  caught  in  a  steel  trap.  But  she  would  teach 
him  an  unforgettable  lesson,  and  that  at  once ;  for  it  would 
be  she  who  would  leave  him  this  time,  leave  him  publicly, 
with  eclat,  as  if  his  mere  presence,  when  returning  from 
that  woman's  side,  was  too  great  a  contamination.  Loic 
was  right.  No  betrayed  mistress  could  have  done  more. 

263 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

The  short  distance  to  the  hotel  was  covered  with 
lightning-like  speed,  and  when  the  panting  horses  stopped 
before  its  shady  veranda  she  turned  to  the  groom,  and  in 
accents  which  left  no  possibility  of  evasion  she  com- 
manded: "I  forbid  you  to  go  back  for  Monsieur  le  Mar- 
quis. Wait  here;  I'll  be  down  directly." 

Fury  lent  her  wings.  She  ran  up-stairs  like  a  girl  of 
fifteen,  burst  into  the  room  where  her  maid  sat  at  work 
on  some  dainty  bits  of  lace,  and  cried,  angrily  twisting  her 
long  suede  gloves  into  a  rope,  and  as  rapidly  unwinding 
them:  "Quick!  Hurry  up!  put  on  your  hat;  give  me 
mine,  and  a  travelling-cloak;  we're  off  this  minute!" 
The  astonished  maid  started  to  her  feet,  but,  warned  by 
her  mistress's  expression  that  this  was  no  time  for  re- 
monstrances or  observations,  hastened  to  comply  with 
these  orders,  so  startling  and  incomprehensible,  although 
twenty  years  in  her  mistress's  service  had  made  her 
thoroughly  conversant  with  her  extraordinary  whims 
and  moods.  The  confidence  Genevieve  had  in  her  was, 
after  a  fashion,  of  an  intimate  kind.  There  were,  of 
course,  certain  things  Madame  la  Marquise  did  not 
tell  Nicole,  but,  apart  from  these  few  exceptions,  she 
spoke  very  freely  to  this  discreet  woman,  especially  when 
she  was  in  difficulties,  and  so,  as  she  helped  her  feverishly 
to  pack  a  few  indispensable  things  in  a  couple  of  hand- 
bags, she  acquainted  her,  in  a  few  words,  with  what  had 
just  happened. 

"But,  Madame  la  Marquise,"  the  woman  ventured  to 
say,  "Monsieur  Loic  will  never  forgive  this,  and  also  it 
will  throw  him  right  into  that  woman's  arms — it  surely 
will!  Please,  please  do  not  leave  him  like  that!" 

Nicole  might  very  possibly  be  right,  but  Genevieve's 
anger  and  resentment  were  still  at  a  white  heat  and  made 
reasoning  an  impossibility.  "I  don't  care  a  rap  what 

264 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

happens  next!"  she  exclaimed,  tying  a  veil  violently  over 
her  burning  face.  "Whatever  he  now  does  matters  very 
little  to  me,  because  I  am  through  with  Loic  until  he 
comes  to  beg  my  pardon  on  his  knees,  and  I  should  ad- 
vise you  to  remember,  Nicole,  that  I'm  not  inclined  to 
accept  observations  on  this  matter.  We  must  be  gone 
before  he  has  time  to  return;  that's  all  you've  got  to 
think  of." 

So  completely  had  she  lost  all  self-control  that  she 
began  to  lash  out  execrations  not  only  at  the  widow,  or 
even  Loic,  but  at  many  others  besides  who  had  nothing 
whatsoever  to  do  with  the  affair.  Oh,  how  she  hated 
everybody!  Even  her  vindictive  dislike  of  Gaidik  rose 
up  in  her  with  redoubled  fury — that  absurd,  red-haired, 
pale-faced  little  thing  who  had  led  him  at  will,  and 
had  been  his  confidante  always,  while  she,  the  mother, 
had  no  influence,  no  control,  no  voice  in  any  of  his 
affairs ! 

Vainly  did  the  now  greatly  alarmed  Nicole  attempt 
to  soothe  these  vituperations;  the  Marquise  would  listen 
to  nothing,  but  talked,  talked,  talked,  while  she  flung  her 
jewels  pell-mell  into  their  travelling-case  and  capsized 
every  object  in  the  room. 

In  spite  of  this  disconcerting  confusion,  it  took  the  two 
women  a  surprisingly  short  time  to  get  ready,  so  simple 
were  the  preparations,  and  barely  half  an  hour  after, 
catching  her  pie  au  nid,  Gene  vie  ve  de  Kergoat  was 
driving  to  the  nearest  railway  station  as  fast  as  Loic's 
cobs  could  put  hoof  to  the  ground,  leaving  a  sheet  of 
paper  upon  his  toilet-table,  on  which  she  had  scribbled 
in  enormous  characters: 

"I've  had  enough  of  your  treacheries  and  falsehoods.     When 
you  feel  like  begging  my  pardon  and  behaving  like  a  gentleman 
you  can  join  me  at  Kergoat,  but  not  before." 
18  265 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

This  message,  heavily  underscored,  was  left  in  plain 
sight  for  any  chance  comer  to  read,  which  unpardonable 
deed  called  forth  some  more  timid  protestations  from 
poor  Nicole;  but  her  exasperated  mistress,  having  vio- 
lently declared  that  she  was  not  going  to  "mince  mat- 
ters," and  that  everybody  was  welcome  to  know  what 
she  thought  of  her  son's  conduct,  she  was  compelled  to 
desist,  although  she  well  knew  that  this  last  insult  was 
not  one  which  her  young  master  would  easily  condone. 
Another  surprise  for  this  wretched  son  lay  in  glittering 
shivers  and  splinters  on  the  floor  of  his  mother's  pretty 
salon  —  a  charming  little  gilt  wheelbarrow-basket  filled 
with  camellias  which  he  had  given  her  on  the  previous 
evening,  and  which  she  had  broken,  torn  asunder,  and 
trampled  underfoot,  simply  because  it  reminded  her  of 
him  and  of  the  many,  many  happy  hours  they  had  spent 
there  together  since  his  return. 

While  all  this  was  happening,  Loic  was  sitting  in  the 
little  whitewashed  parlor  of  the  cottage  where  Madame 
Billot  had  momentarily  established  her  Lares  and  Penates 
— consisting  of  a  gaudy  petroleum  lamp,  a  few  hideous 
knick-knacks,  a  couple  of  plush-covered  albums,  and  half 
a  dozen  cushions  of  an  awesome  and  terrible  pattern! 
The  view  from  the  muslin-draped  windows,  it  is  true, 
was  well  worth  looking  at,  for  the  garden  had  attained 
that  fine  flower  and  flavor  that  the  early  autumn 
brings  with  it,  which  same  might  as  truthfully  have  been 
said  of  the  fair  hostess,  who,  almost  beside  herself  with 
joy  at  her  unexpected  good  -  fortune,  beamed  from  a 
deep,  chintz-covered  arm-chair  upon  "Monsieur  le  Mar- 
quis" with  all  the  mellowing  charm  of  her  thirty-five 
years. 

It  was  not  wise  of  him,  and  Loic  knew  it,  to  awaken 
even  by  so  absolutely  accidental  a  visit  this  wily  siren's 

266 


THE    TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

hopes;  but,  to  do  him  justice,  it  never  occurred  to  him 
that  he  could  be  taken  seriously,  and  when  he  had  caught 
sight  of  her  limping  painfully  on  her  extravagantly  high 
heels  along  the  hot,  dusty  road,  he  had  almost  instinctive- 
ly pulled  up  and  offered  her  the  vacant  seat  by  his  side, 
just  as  he  would  have  offered  it  to  any  aged  crone  en- 
countered under  similar  circumstances.  At  least,  that  is 
what  he  told  himself,  but,  under  the  circumstances,  it  is 
very  probable  that,  little  as  he  had  thought  of  seeking 
this  opportunity,  now  that  it  had  presented  itself,  a 
truly  unconscious  reminiscence  of  his  mother's  bullying 
quickened  his  polite  instincts.  He  sat  laughing  good- 
naturedly  at  her  minauderies  for  half  an  hour  or  so,  and 
then,  getting  up,  made  his  adieux  rather  abruptly,  for  he 
suddenly  felt  an  undefined  dread  of  some  impending 
contretemps,  and  the  widow's  silly  simperings  seemed  all 
at  once  intolerable  to  him. 

With  a  sense  of  relief  quite  disproportionate  indeed 
to  the  circumstances,  he  bowed  himself  out,  opened  the 
door  leading  to  the  diminutive  porch,  and  looked  up  and 
down  the  road  for  his  trap,  but  instead  of  the  perfectly 
appointed  equipage  he  had  expected  to  see,  there  was  only 
a  dingy  sand-gatherer's  cart  crawling  up  the  road  behind 
a  couple  of  sorry  mules.  Otherwise  the  long,  straight 
chaussee  was  entirely  empty. 

Amazed  and  greatly  annoyed,  Loic  gave  vent  to  an 
energetic  expletive:  "Where  the  devil  can  the  idiot  have 
driven  to!"  he  continued,  half  aloud,  a  swift  misgiving 
making  his  voice  shake  a  little,  and  without  further  good- 
byes to  Madame  Billot,  standing  within  the  small  hall 
door,  he  hurried  away  in  search  of  his  vanished  trap. 
Quickly  he  took  a  turn  around  the  little  pine  grove,  al- 
though it  was  patent  that  nothing  could  be  concealed 
there,  glanced  once  more  up  and  down  the  road,  and, 

267 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

realizing  the  uselessness  of  his  quest,  set  off  at  a  rattling 
pace  towards  the  hotel. 

Although  he  invariably  retained  in  action  all  the  cool- 
ness which  insures  success  in  most  human  pursuits,  and 
never  grew  nervous  or  apprehensive  whatever  the  cir- 
cumstances might  be,  nevertheless  that  walk  home  was 
tense  with  unpleasant  presentiments.  Again  and  again 
he  asked  himself  what  could  possibly  have  made  an 
admirably  trained  servant  like  his  groom  disobey  orders 
and  leave  him  so  summarily  in  the  lurch.  At  last  a  sud- 
den idea  seized  him.  Could  his  mother  have  played  him 
this  very  extraordinary  trick  ?  But  no,  that  was  quite  im- 
possible; for  how  could  she  have  divined  that  he  would 
drive  the  widow  home  ?  Still  his  horses,  like  the  prophet 
Elijah's,  could  not  have  taken  flight  to  Heaven,  although 
he  felt  almost  tempted  to  gaze  skyward  for  some  trace  of 
them  among  the  fleecy  little  clouds  sailing  slowly  from 
behind  the  island!  Then  he  heartily  cursed  himself  for 
having  accepted  Genevieve's  diaphanous  excuse  for  re- 
maining at  home  alone.  Extraordinary  as  it  might 
appear,  she  must  be  at  the  bottom  of  all  this.  Restless, 
impatient,  eager  for  the  quicker  falling  behind  of  the 
various  landmarks  punctuating  his  road,  he  hastened  on; 
but  it  was,  nevertheless,  already  very  much  past  mid- 
day when  he  found  himself  at  last  at  the  top  of  the  path 
leading  to  the  hotel  gardens. 

As  he  was  especially  desirous — before  knowing  more 
about  this  strange  affair — to  avoid  being  seen  by  his 
mother  thus  hurrying  home  on  foot,  Loic  made  a  wide 
circuit  round  the  building;  for  by  crossing  the  gardens 
he  could  approach  his  favorite  side  entrance  without 
being  detected.  A  few  hundred  yards  more  brought 
him  to  the  stables,  where  he  vainly  cast  a  passing  glance 
pf  inquiry  for  his  missing  trap,  and,  skirting  a  broad 

268 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

parterre  aglow  with  geraniums  and  petunias,  he  pushed 
the  creeper-wreathed  door  and  entered,  taking  the  narrow 
staircase  in  four  bounds.  Then  the  whole  throng  of 
suspicions  and  anxieties,  that  had  seemed  a  minute  before 
utterly  beyond  the  horizon  of  credibility,  took  shape  and 
consistence,  for  he  stood  confronted  by  the  blank,  dis- 
ordered rooms  and  the  incredible  confusion  caused  by 
Genevieve's  frantic  departure. 

The  window-curtains  were  pulled  back,  and  one,  caught 
by  the  edge  of  the  dressing-table,  slanted  into  the  room 
with  something  desolate  in  its  twisted,  crumpled  folds. 
The  sliding-doors  of  a  wardrobe  gaped  apart,  revealing  a 
silky  mass  of  disarranged  dresses,  one  of  them,  an  ex- 
quisite tea-gown  of  amethyst-hued  crepe  de  Chine,  lying 
doubled  up  with  outspread,  flowing  sleeves  upon  the 
floor,  like  a  headless  corpse.  Chairs  had  been  moved 
from  their  places,  even  the  sofas  had  been  pulled  from 
their  stations  against  the  wall,  and  in  one  corner  was  the 
crushed  and  trampled  little  wheelbarrow.  Everything 
cried  aloud  of  violence  and  of  the  brutality  of  blind  anger. 
Loic  gasped  at  the  sight  of  so  much  anarchy  in  those 
charming  rooms,  which  his  mother  had  filled  with  her 
delicate  elegance,  and,  turning  sharply  on  his  heel,  marched 
into  his  own  adjoining  suite,  where  his  eyes  at  once  fell 
upon  the  insulting  note  pinned  to  the  white  velvet  pin- 
cushion her  dainty  fingers  had  made  for  him  but  a  few 
days  ago.  He  pulled  the  sheet  of  paper  from  its  restrain- 
ing pin,  gazed  amazedly  at  it  for  a  second,  and  then  tore 
it  four  times  across,  his  face  turning  almost  livid  with 
fury. 

"Damnation!  What  ails  the  woman?"  he  cried,  fling- 
ing the  shredded  pieces  to  the  ground ;  then  he  burst  into 
a  laugh  that  would  have  made  Genevieve  shiver  could 
she  have  heard  it.  "Well,  she's  done  it  to  some  purpose 

269 


THE   TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

this  time!"  he  muttered,  falling  into  a  chair  by  the  win- 
dow. He  felt  suddenly  battered  and  tired,  as  if  he  had 
received  a  blow  on  the  head.  After  a  few  moments  he 
took  out  his  cigarette-case,  struck  a  match,  lit  a  cigarette, 
and  began  to  smoke,  looking  unseeingly  and  vacantly 
before  him,  like  one  who  rests  himself  after  some  great 
physical  exertion ;  but  in  a  very  little  while  he  rose  and 
rang  the  bell,  with  no  gentle  hand,  for  his  valet,  in  order 
to  discover,  if  possible,  what  had  really  happened. 

When  he  heard  what  the  man  had  to  tell,  and  also  the 
gratifying  fact  that  the  whole  hotel  was  in  an  uproar  over 
Madame  la  Marquise's  sensational  departure,  his  lips 
curled  with  quiet  disdain. 

"That,"  he  said,  with  extreme  composure,  "does  not 
in  the  least  matter,  for  I  do  not  intend  to  give  them  the 
pleasure  of  my  presence  here  long.  You  will  please  pack 
up  all  my  things  at  once,  give  notice  of  our  leaving,  and 
send  off  Hortense  (Genevieve's  second  maid)  with  all 
Madame  la  Marquise's  trunks  immediately  to  Kergoat. 
By-the-way,  did  any  letters  come  this  morning?" 

Some  had  come,  and,  as  it  chanced,  one  among  them 
which  gave  a  definite  turn  to  Loic's  immediate  plans, 
and — could  he  but  have  known  it — the  worst  turn  his 
erratic  plans  had  ever  taken.  It  was  from  an  old  friend, 
who  wrote  to  ask  him  whether  he  could  not  soon  spare 
him  a  week  or  so  at  his  bachelor  hall  near  Les  Sables 
d'Olonne — a  very  charming  sea-side  resort  only  a  few 
miles  distant,  and  this  amiable  invitation  Loic  at  once 
accepted  by  telegraph  for  the  next  day. 

He  lunched  very  late  with  but  a  poor  appetite,  and 
lingered  rather  despondently  over  his  cigarette  after- 
wards, which  was  utterly  unlike  him.  That  the  present 
disturbance  of  his  life  should  be  entirely  his  mother's 
fault,  that  in  a  flare  of  jealousy  and  temper  she  alone 

270 


THE    TRIDENT    AND   THE    NET 

should  have  created  for  both  of  them  this  more  than 
unpleasant  situation,  gave  him  no  great  comfort.  Fortu- 
nately he  was  not  accustomed  to  cry  over  spilled  milk, 
but  still  the  morning's  happenings  had  taxed  even  his 
admirably  balanced  nerves;  he  felt  singularly  upset,  and 
defiance  pure  and  simple  filled  every  nook  and  cranny  of 
his  being.  At  the  moment  he  could  do  nothing  decisive 
with  regard  to  his  mother,  no  step  that  he  could  take — 
save  utter  and  abject  surrender  and  an  immediate  start 
in  pursuit,  his  hands  full  of  olive-branches — could  make 
matters  a  bit  better  between  them,  or  disperse  the  thun- 
der-clouds massed  around  his  head,  and  it  was  therefore 
idle  to  grind  one's  teeth  any  longer  over  so  hopeless  a 
situation.  He  determined,  therefore,  to  dismiss  from  his 
mind,  for  the  present  at  least,  the  highly  unpleasant 
experiences  of  this  unfortunate  day. 

Having  reached  this  more  or  less  satisfactory  conclu- 
sion, he  was  about  to  go  out  for  a  stroll  when  he  suddenly 
caught  sight  of  a  bulky  letter  which  had  slipped,  unob- 
served, from  the  tray  upon  which  the  morning's  mail  had 
been  brought,  and  lay  on  the  carpet  half  concealed  by 
the  table-cloth.  He  dreaded  his  long,  lonely  afternoon 
and  evening,  and  bent  eagerly  for  this  possible  source  of 
passing  diversion.  Then,  as  he  took  it  up,  his  heart  gave 
a  great  jump  of  joy.  It  was  from  Gaidik!  The  very 
sight  of  her  writing  filled  him  with  an  immediate  sense  of 
happiness,  and  he  went  out  on  the  balcony  to  read  it  by 
the  rays  of  the  setting  sun,  which  were  transforming  land 
and  sea  into  a  pink-and-golden  glory. 

The  letter  was  long,  brave,  and  tender,  like  all  Gaidik's 
letters  to  him,  and  as  he  read  he  almost  seemed  to  hear 
her  voice: 

"How  lucky  you  are,"  she  wrote,  "to  be  once  more  in  our  own 
Brittany.  I  think  that  exile  from  its  shores  is  the  greatest  of 

271 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

evils,  for  even  with  cosmopolitans  like  ourselves  le  mat  du  Pays 
is  an  incurable  disease,  and  makes  one  deeply  and  restlessly 
miserable  at  times.  It  makes  me  feel — at  least  when  the  fit 
comes  on — as  if  my  whole  life  was  like  a  rope  cut  in  two ;  the 
ends  may,  of  course,  be  cleverly  knotted  together  at  some  future 
time,  but  even  that  will  never  make  it  quite  the  same  again.  I 
think  of  you  day  and  night,  my  own  boy.  I  can  almost  see  you 
making  the  rounds  of  all  our  favorite  places,  and  I  know  that  you 
miss  your  little  sister,  especially  when  you  gallop  your  horses 
along  the  dear  old  cliffs.  They  call  Brittany  dull  and  dark  and 
silent.  What  nonsense  that  is !  Brittany,  like  its  wild  seas,  deals 
open  blows,  not  the  cruel,  insinuatingly  treacherous  ones  other 
lands  are  apt  to  fell  one  with.  But  what  is  the  use  of  all  this, 
excepting  to  make  you  think  that  I  have  lost  all  my  pluck,  which 
is,  thank  Heaven,  far  from  being  the  case  as  yet,  although  here 
the  prospect  is  not  what  you  might  truthfully  call  cheerful. 
Rain  is  pouring  down  from  extraordinarily  leaden  skies,  and  all 
the  world  is  dim  and  watery  and  full  of  gloom.  To-night,  if  it 
only  will  storm  in  good  earnest,  instead  of  eternally  drizzling, 
when  I  am  comfortably  tucked  in  my  bed  I  will  indulge  in  my 
greatest  of  luxuries — imagining  that  I  am  at  Kergoat,  and  that 
the  voices  of  the  winds  bring  rne  the  dear  sound  of  yours.  It  is 
at  such  times  that  I  best  recognize  the  possibility  of  mysterious 
messages  being  sent  by  one  soul  to  another  through  endless 
space.  One  is  hardly  aware  that  one  possesses  this  power  until 
the  cruelties  of  life  make  one  acquainted  with  it,  and  it  is  a 
great  comfort  to  find  out  that  the  mind  can  then  develop  such 
amazing  and  unexpected  aptitudes.  How  delighted  Mamma 
must  be  to  have  you  again  with  her  I  Be  good  and  patient, 
Loic.  She  is  sometimes  a  little  difficult  to  understand,  and 
after  your  years  of  utter  liberty  it  will  probably  seem  hard 
to  you  to  bend  to  her  whims,  but  remember  how  much  she 
loves  you,  and  also  how  lonely  she  has  been  since  we  both  left 
her—" 

At  that  point  Loic  put  down  the  letter  on  the  small 
rattan  table  where  his  mother's  fan  and  scent-bottle  lay 
forgotten  by  her,  and  leaned  back  in  his  lounging-chair, 
his  mouth  rigid  and  his  deep-set  eyes  wandering  vacantly 
athwart  the  beautiful  sunset  tints  of  sea  and  sky.  He 
was  not  fond  of  apologizing  to  anybody  for  anything; 
but  his  sister's  letter  was  working  a  remarkable  trans- 

272 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

formation  in  his  feelings;  indeed,  wounded  pride  and 
bitter  resentment  were  yielding  to  a  softer  mood,  and  he 
suddenly  felt  an  overwhelming  yearning  for  the  immediate 
presence  of  Gaidik.  Why  was  she  not  here  to  smooth 
the  way  for  him  ?  Ah,  yes !  why  ?  He  sighed  impatiently 
as  he  thought  that,  after  all,  during  the  last  few  weeks 
the  business  of  living  had  been  a  very  cheery,  comfortable 
affair,  and  now  suddenly,  without  any  real  fault  of  his 
own,  he  was  again  out  of  his  depth,  and  he  clearly  saw 
tempestuous  clouds  gathering  above  his  horizon  with  a 
promise  of  many  a  grim  storm  in  the  immediate  future. 
And  after  that,  what?  Why  had  his  mother  acted  so 
foolishly?  Well,  she  always  acted  foolishly  where  he 
was  concerned,  so  it  seemed  to  him— all  women  acted 
foolishly,  excepting  Gaidik;  but  Gaidik  was  a  trump; 
she  was  always  cheery  and  simple  and  splendid ;  she  never 
had  a  look  or  a  word  of  reproach  for  him  whatever  his 
sins  of  omission  and  commission.  Gaidik  was  Gaidik, 
and  it  was  useless  to  judge  others  by  her — to  that  he  must 
make  up  his  mind! 

At  last  he  got  up  and  walked  to  the  end  of  the  balcony, 
where  he  leaned  for  a  moment  far  into  the  warm,  velvety 
evening  air;  then  he  slowly  returned  to  his  chair.  Gai- 
dik's  letter  was  indeed  doing  its  work ;  her  straightforward 
words  were  persistently  groping  about  in  his  heart.  For- 
get what  had  happened,  humiliate  himself  for  a  fault  so 
slender  that  it  hardly  deserved  the  name  ?  His  very  soul 
revolted  against  such  a  step.  Moreover,  if  he  yielded 
now,  what  endless  patience  he  would  need  to  endure  his 
mother's  triumph,  and  how  impossible  it  would  be  for 
him  to  ever  assert  himself  again  or  call  his  life  his  own. 
Nevertheless,  he  suddenly  jumped  up  once  more,  strode 
across  the  room  to  a  writing-table  and  rapidly  penned 
the  following  words: 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

"Mv  DEAR  MOTHER, — I  think  that  you  would  be  sorry  if  you 
knew  how  unjust  are  your  accusations  and  how  unnecessary  the 
fuss  you  are  making.  I  am,  however,  not  going  to  speak  about 
this  unpleasant  affair.  I  am  writing  only  to  ask  you  whether 
you  want  me  at  Kergoat.  Pray  answer  yes  or  no,  and  address  me 
at  Ghislain  d'Yffiniac's,  Chateau  d'Yffiniac,  Les  Sables  d'Olonne, 
where  I  will  be  staying  from  to-morrow  on  for  a  week. 

"Loic. 

"P.S. — Isn't  it  a  pity  that  you  can't  try  to  trust  me  a  little 
more!" 


"There!"  he  said,  half  aloud,  throwing  down  his  pen 
with  a  smile  of  relief.  "If  Gaid  is  not  satisfied,  she's 
become  devilishly  hard  to  please.  I'm  no  letter-writer, 
but  I  think  this  should  fetch  Madame  la  Marquise,  if 
she's  the  least  clever  at  reading  between  the  lines."  Yet, 
as  he  pushed  away  his  writing  materials,  he  still  puzzled 
over  his  mother's  strange  fugue,  for  he  recollected,  some- 
what bitterly,  that  far  from  being  always  so  strict  with 
regard  to  his  flirtations,  she  had,  before  his  departure  for 
the  States,  several  times  countenanced  some  rather 
peculiar  incidents  in  his  carriere  galante  —  nay,  had 
deliberately  closed  her  eyes  to  situations  far,  far  more 
compromising  and  serious  than  this  mere  fortuitous  en- 
counter with  Madame  Billot,  in  order  to  keep  him  at  her 
side;  he  being  then  only  a  mere  boy,  whereas  now  he  was 
of  age,  independent,  and  could  reasonably  be  supposed 
to  have  learned  how  to  take  care  of  himself.  Well,  she 
was  incomprehensible  as  always,  and  her  caprices  would 
ever  remain  unfathomable  to  her  sorely  tried  and  much 
bewildered  son. 

When  he  had  sent  his  orders  to  the  stables  concerning 
what  was  to  be  done  with  the  horses  and  men  brought 
from  Kergoat,  it  was  time  for  him  to  dress  for  his  solitary 
dinner,  and  as  he  did  so  he  had  so  far  recovered  his  tem- 
per that  he  spoke  quite  cheerfully  and  banteringly  of 

274 


THE    TRiDENT    AND    THE    NET 

his  deconvenue  to  his  faithful  valet.  Genevieve  always 
took  the  precaution  of  carrying  special  wines  with  her 
when  she  was  at  hotels,  and  Loic  ordered  up  some  re- 
markable Burgundy,  of  which  he  drank  several  glasses, 
which  helped  to  further  brighten  his  mood;  then,  lighting 
a  cigarette,  he  strolled  down-stairs  to  the  caf£,  a  singu- 
larly cosey  apartment  decorated  in  pale  yellow  and  white, 
provided  with  small  tables,  lighted  by  daintily  shaded 
lamps,  and  opened  generously  onto  the  outer  world  by 
an  immense  bow-window,  through  which  the  smell  of 
wet  sea-weed  and  reseda  and  the  intermittent  orange 
gleam  of  a  revolving  light  from  one  of  the  islands  came 
floating  in. 

As  he  came  in,  the  few  occupants  of  this  very  uncon- 
ventional public  room  looked  curiously  up  at  him,  and 
then  covertly  at  one  another;  but,  taking  no  apparent 
notice  of  this,  he  picked  up  a  morning  paper  and,  sitting 
down  in  a  nook  between  the  bow-window  and  the  yellow 
silk  portieres  partially  separating  it  from  the  cafd  proper, 
ordered  a  cup  of  coffee  and  began  to  glance  at  the  news. 

Presently  he  heard  one  elderly  gentleman  say  to  an- 
other elderly  gentleman  with  whom  he  was  playing  dom- 
inoes, in  that  hoarsely  audible  whisper  that  testifies  to  a 
dulled  ear,  "That  is  the  young  Marquis  de  Kergoat,  about 
whom  there  was  such  a  pow-wow  this  morning." 

"Ah!  I  thought  so,"  replied  old  gentleman  No.  2. 
"  Re-mar-ka-bly  handsome,  I  call  him,  and  a  regular 
dare-devil,  is  he  not?" 

"That  he  is;  and  such  a  fortune — millions,  my  dear 
Sir;  millions!  Not  to  speak  of  his  Lady  mother's  hoards. 
He,  he!  la  p'tite  Mere  Billot  aura  de  quoi  croquer;  and, 
I'm  told,  she's  got  sharp  teeth,  that  little  woman — but 
it's  your  play,"  and  he  courteously  waved  his  hand  tow- 
ards the  game. 

275 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

"So,"  thought  Loic,  "Mamma's  startling  manoeuvres 
are  preparing  a  Kergoat-Billot  scandal  in  these  charitable 
regions!  Thanks,  awfully;  but  I'd  best  clear  out  of  this, 
or  there's  going  to  be  a  curtain-raiser  right  away  in 
the  shape  of  an  old  -  gentleman  -  Loic  row,"  and,  rising, 
he  sauntered  out  of  the  hotel  and  down  towards  the 
sea. 

The  water  was  a  good  way  off,  and  the  tide  still  falling. 
Long  lines  of  surf  chased  one  another  before  the  cool 
night -wind,  faded  into  shallow,  moonlit  ripples,  and 
were  replaced  by  other  eager,  harmonious  little  waves 
ready  to  be  shredded  into  opalescent  foam.  Loic  walked 
on  and  on  along  the  lonely  sands,  listening  to  the  music 
of  the  sea  with  the  profound  sympathy  of  a  true  Breton. 
So  far  as  eye  could  reach  on  all  sides  save  one,  there 
was  nothing  but  sand-hills  and  pale  grasses  thrown  into 
metallic  relief  by  the  moon.  Once  or  twice  he  stopped 
to  look  affectionately  at  some  bits  of  sea-weed  spread 
out  at  his  feet,  every  little  fibre  showing  separately  and 
quite  distinct  against  the  smooth,  wet  beach,  where  each 
of  his  steps  crushed  for  a  moment  the  moisture  out  of  the 
sand  in  a  little,  shining  circlet.  He  was  longing  for  Ker- 
goat  and  ah! — so  bitterly  for  Gaidik  again!  He  shrugged 
his  shoulders  impatiently,  and  began  to  sing  in  his  ringing, 
deep-chested  voice  a  bit  of  an  old,  old  Breton  ballad 
about  a  lad  whose  wicked  mistress,  to  prove  her  power, 
demanded  his  mother's  heart,  and  how  he  killed  his 
mother,  but  found  by  a  miracle  that  he  could  not  kill  her 
love: 

"Comme  il  courait  il  tomba 
Et  Ion,  Ion  laire, 
Et  Ion,  Ion  la— 
Comme  il  courait  il  tomba 
Et  par  terre  I'cosur  roula. 
276 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

"Et  pendant  que  1'coeur  roulait, 
Et  Ion,  Ion  laire, 
Et  Ion,  Ion  la, 

Et  pendant  que  1'cceur  roulait, 
Entendit  1'coeur  qui  parlait. 

"Et  le  coeur  disait  en  pleurant, 
Et  Ion,  Ion  laire, 
Et  Ion,  Ion  la — 
Et  le  coeur  disait  en  pleurant, 
T'es-tu  fait  mal,  mon  enfant!" 

"That's  the  sort  of  mother  for  a  chap  to  have,"  he  com- 
mented, with  a  queer  little  laugh,  after  he  had  concluded 
this  touching  chansonette  with  a  wild  and  defiant  Tyrolese 
yodel,  "for  surely  maternal  solicitude  and  forbearance  can 
go  no  further!" 

It  was  getting  late ;  the  brilliant  moon  was  now  barred 
across  by  fleecy  clouds;  moment  by  moment  its  clear 
radiance  was  paling  over  land  and  sea,  and  there  was  a 
chill  in  the  air  which  seemed  to  go  straight  down  to  his 
innermost  heart.  He  heaved  a  deep  sigh  of  weariness, 
both  mental  and  physical,  and  turned  to  retrace  his  way. 
When  he  reached  the  hotel,  its  rosily  shining  window- 
squares  looked  inviting  and  homelike,  but  this  was  not 
his  home — worse  luck — and,  although  he  did  not  know 
it,  many  days  were  to  pass  before  he  saw  that  again,  and 
as  he  slowly  ascended  the  stairs  he  once  more  began  to 

hum* 

"Et  1'cceur  disait  en  pleurant, 
Et  Ion,  Ion  laire, 
Et  Ion,  Ion  la — 
Et  1'cceur  disait  en  pleurant, 
T'es-tu  fait  mal,  mon  enfant!" 


XIV 

Saith  the  pendulum 
Slowly  o'er  and  o'er, 

' '  Nevermore ! 

Shut  and  barred  the  door!" 
Will  the  dawn  ne'er  come, 

Or  be  dumb 
These  dull  Voices'  lore? 
"  Nevermore!" 

The  Clock,  III.— M.  M. 

Loic  drew  up  his  horses  before  the  castle  gateway, 
where  their  impatient  hoofs  immediately  began  to  beat 
a  sonorous  devil's  tattoo  as  the  groom,  dropping  smart- 
ly down  from  his  high  perch,  pulled  at  the  dazzling  brass 
handle  of  the  concierge's  bell. 

Meanwhile  his  master  was  taking  in  the  very  inviting 
aspect  of  the  exquisite  little  Vendeen  castle,  intrenched 
behind  the  tall,  hammered -iron  gates  which,  during  the 
Reign  of  Terror,  had  formed  so  excellent  a  defence  for 
the  hasty  barricade  of  desperate  Chouans.  The  tout- 
ensemble  had  a  pretty,  coquettish  air  of  belonging  to  an 
era  that  had  altogether  passed  away,  to  a  yesterday  already 
far  remote,  which  yet  did  not  exclude  all  that  modern 
ideas  of  comfort  and  luxury  could  suggest.  The  chateau 
itself,  irregularly  picturesque,  with  its  round  turrets 
much  carved  and  fretted  and  deliciously  overgrown  in 
lustrous  patches  by  broad-leaved  creepers,  its  fancifully 
wrought  balconies,  its  pointed  chapel-spire  to  the  left 
profiling  a  gilded  cross  against  the  intensely  blue  sky, 
slept  in  the  shadowy  stillness  of  broad-terraced  gardens, 

278 


THE   TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

merging  soon  into  the  rolling  green  waves  of  a  beautiful 
park. 

"Ghislain  is  not  to  be  pitied,"  Loic  muttered,  "for 
that's  really  an  uncommonly  nice  place,"  and  at  that 
precise  minute  Ghislain  himself  came  running  down  the 
flower-bordered  avenue,  preceded  by  his  breathless  con- 
cierge, who  was  evidently  greatly  distressed  by  not  having 
been  at  his  post  to  receive  the  puissant  Lord  of  Kergoat. 

"A  million  times  welcome!"  the  young  chatelain  cried, 
jumping  up  beside  his  smiling  guest  and  shaking  him 
warmly  by  the  hand.  "Give  those  beauties  their  heads, 
and  we'll  be  home  in  three  seconds.  You  can't  imagine 
how  glad  I  am  to  see  you." 

Count  Ghislain  d'Yffiniac  seemed  the  very  embodi- 
ment of  unconquerable  good-humor,  a  fact  which  made 
his  round  face  handsome  from  its  very  pleasantness  of 
expression.  His  light-brown  hair  stood  up  with  an  energy 
upon  which  no  brush,  be  it  ever  so  wiry,  could  ever  ex- 
ercise a  flattening  influence,  and  he  had  merry,  hazel 
eyes,  soft  and  honest  and  loyal,  like  those  of  a  dog.  He 
was  about  five  feet  eleven,  and  broad  for  that,  and  wore 
his  clothes  in  a  comfortable  sort  of  a  way,  excluding  all 
idea  of  dandyism.  Having  lost  both  his  parents  when 
still  very  young,  he  was  in  possession  of  a  very  large 
fortune,  and,  being  one  of  those  who  go  smiling  through 
the  world,  he  was  continuously  smiled  upon  in  return. 
It  was  blankly  impossible  to  quarrel  with  him — it  would 
have  been  quite  useless  to  try — his  very  smile  displaying 
a  double  row  of  admirable  teeth  alone  forbade  such  a 
thought.  Passionately  devoted  to  horses,  he  spent  the 
greater  portion  of  his  large  revenues  on  a  model  stud- 
farm  that  was  the  pride  of  his  heart  and  which  was 
only  separated  from  this  exquisite  little  chateau  by  the 
length  of  its  well-timbered  park. 

279 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

The  dining-room  at  Yffiniac  was  a  delightful  apart- 
ment, and  from  the  moment  of  sitting  down  to  a  re- 
markably well -cooked  dinner  beneath  its  fine,  coffered 
ceiling  a  soul-cheering  merriness  had  reigned  supreme 
between  the  two  friends,  rising  sometimes  into  loud 
hilarity  as  anecdote  followed  anecdote  and  reminiscence 
succeeded  to  reminiscence.  They  were  now  at  dessert; 
decanters  glowed  on  the  snowy  cloth  like  gigantic  rubies 
and  topazes ;  a  silver  tray  heaped  with  cigars  and  cigar- 
ettes stood  at  Ghislain's  elbow  beside  his  coffee-cup,  and 
now  their  talk  settled  down  into  a  more  definite  channel. 

"It  was  really  good  of  you  to  come,  Loic,"  the  young 
host  said,  stroking  his  imperceptible  mustache,  "because 
I  was  feeling  a  bit  lonely  just  now,  to  tell  you  the  truth, 
in  my  barrack  of  a  house." 

Loic  laughed.  "Barrack  is  good!  Why,  you  fortu- 
nate mortal,  your  lot  is  the  most  enviable  in  the  world. 
What  are  you  complaining  of,  pray?" 

"  It's  all  very  well  for  you  to  say  so,"  he  replied,  making 
a  wry  face.  "You,  who  have  a  lovely  mother,  an  ideal 
sister,  and  the  usual  complement  of  uncles,  aunts,  and 
cousins,  cannot  judge  what  it  is  to  be  all  alone  in  the 
world  without  kith  and  kin.  I  assure  you  it  is  sometimes 
a  little  trying." 

Loic's  face  expressed  nothing  whatever;  he  drew  the 
silver  tray  to  his  side  of  the  table  and  lit  a  cigarette. 
Perchance  he  was  thinking  of  the  family  blessings  he  had 
lately  enjoyed. 

"Yes,"  the  other  continued,  ruefully,  "one  can't 
spend  all  one's  lazy,  selfish  life  in  amusing  one's  self." 

"What  about  the  horses  —  aren't  they  sufficiently 
absorbing?"  asked  Loic.  "I  thought  they  obliged  you 
to  work  late  and  early — that,  at  least,  being  what  you 
were  so  good  as  to  write  me  no  later  than  yesterday." 

280 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

"That's  just  a  little  slow  of  you  to  think  that  horses 
can  entirely  fill  up  the  void  of  one's  soul,"  Ghislain  re- 
plied, with  such  energy  that  Loic  burst  into  a  peal  of 
laughter.  "You  have  a  void  in  your  soul?"  he  cried. 
"Look  here,  Ghis,  if  you  are  playing  the  fool  are  you 
prepared  to  take  the  consequences? — because  I've  not 
come  here  to  listen  to  the  laments  of  the  lonely  bach- 
elor. Go  and  get  married  at  once,  if  that's  the  way  you 
feel." 

Ghislain  fell  immediately  into  his  humor.  "What 
advice!"  he  said,  shaking  his  round  head.  "That's  like 
recommending  the  use  of  the  guillotine  to  a  man  suffering 
from  a  toothache.  Besides,  how  many  women  do  you 
think  are  yearning  to  bestow  their  hands  upon  such  an 
ugly  chap  as  I  ?  I  don't  pretend  to  be  an  Adonis,  like 
you,  my  boy." 

"Is  that  a  compliment?"  L6ic  said,  derisively,  making 
an  obeisance.  "Considering  your  low  opinion  of  your- 
self, I'm  a  good  deal  surprised  to  see  you  looking  so  fat 
and  hearty.  Humility  can't  be  very  wearing,  or  else  it  is 
your  particular  forte." 

"Now,  that's  both  unkind  and  cynical,"  Ghislain  pro- 
tested, with  immense  plain tiveness.  "My  intentions 
were  honorable  —  to  confide  my  troubles  to  you  and 
show  by  a  '  deadly  parallel '  how  lucky  you  are ;  but,  of 
course,  those  good  intentions  have  only  gone  to  join  the 
other  paving-stones." 

"You  are  a — but  for  charity's  sake  I'd  best  forbear 
to  specify.  Still,  you  are  getting  me  interested;  so,  in 
Heaven's  name,  tell  me  what  is  really  the  trouble  with 
you?" 

"Oh,  it  would  be  too  long  and  too  sad  a  story;  if  I 
were  to  anatomize  my  feelings,  it  would  take  half  the 
night,  and  I  hate  anatomizing  my  feelings!  I  have 
19  281 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

pretty  nearly  every  weakness  that  flesh  is  heir  to,  but — 
psychology  is  not  among  them." 

"My  good  man,  psychology  or  no  psychology,  you 
won't  make  me  believe  in  your  claims  to  pity.  I  diagnose 
your  case  perfectly;  cheap  sarcasm,  tale  of  woe,  mysteri- 
ous circumlocutions,  all  point  one  way.  Own  up,  you 
are  on  the  dangerous  slope — facilis  descensus,  you  know — 
which  leads  to  matrimony.  Is  there  any  reason,  by-the- 
way,  why  you  shouldn't  marry?" 

"None  whatsoever,  as  far  as  I  know,"  Ghislain  said, 
dropping  his  tone  of  futile  banter.  "  Don't  laugh,  but  if 
I  ever  marry  it  will  be  simply  because  I  adore  .children. 
I've  an  uncle — my  one  living  relative — whose  great  idea 
is  to  see  me  'established,'  as  he  calls  it.  He  looks  upon 
me  as  a  sort  of  family  fund  that  has  to  be  speedily  sunk 
somewhere;  and,  well,  one  of  these  days  he'll  succeed  in 
his  nefarious  purpose,  and  then  you'll  have  to  sheer  off, 
for  I'll  transform  "Bachelor  Hall"  into  a  vast  nursery." 

"I  won't  sheer  off,"  said  Loic,  with  extreme  delibera- 
tion, "not  the  least  bit,  because  I've  a  weakness  for 
babies  myself,  strange  as  it  may  appear;  so  I'll  come 
here  in  the  character  of  devoted  uncle,  and  play  that 
disinterested  part  with  a  generosity  and  self-forgetful- 
ness  which  will  positively  take  your  breath  away."  He 
had  spoken  with  a  sort  of  inconsequent  seriousness,  as 
if  he  had  not  yet  decided  whether  he  was  dealing  with 
a  matter  of  deadly  earnest  or  of  rattling  farce,  and  now  he 
broke  off  and  looked  at  Ghislain  with  his  slow,  some- 
what mocking  smile,  awaiting  the  result  of  his  little 
speech.  Ghislain,  with  a  burst  of  laughter,  pushed  a 
decanter  towards  his  guest.  "You're  a  likely  chap  for 
the  role — you  the  Don  Juan  par  excellence!" 

"You  should  never  judge  by  appearances,"  Loic  re- 
monstrated; but  Ghislain,  pursing  up  his  lips  and  looking 

282 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

Loic's  handsome  figure  up  and  down  with  genuine  appre- 
ciation, said,  in  an  equally  solemn  and  impressive  tone: 
"There  is  somebody  not  far  from  here  who  is  terribly  in 
earnest  about  marrying  you,  at  any  rate.  A  young 
widow,  beautiful,  charming,  with  a  skin  like  a  camellia, 
eyes — " 

"A  widow!"  Loic  interrupted,  his  eyebrows  going  up 
in  his  astonishment  almost  to  the  roots  of  his  hair.  "  What 
widow?  Who  the  devil  do  you  mean?" 

Ghislain  looked  at  him  with  a  sort  of  wonder,  and  then 
laughed  quietly.  "How  many  widows  are  at  present 
filling  the  bill  ?"  he  inquired.  "Your  irritability  indicates 
a  guilty  conscience." 

"There  you  are  at  it  again,  misjudging  the  innocent! 
Hadn't  you  better  be  careful?"  L6ic  rejoined,  pulling 
himself  together.  "But  tell  me,  of  your  mercy,  who  is 
the  lady  in  question?" 

"No,  not  now;  I  don't  want  to  spoil  your  surprise — 
for  you'll  see  her  to-morrow." 

"To-morrow!"  Loic  gasped.     "Here?" 

"Well,  I  can  flatter  myself  that  my  wee  bit  of  news 
makes  its  little  effect,"  Ghislain  remarked,  delighted. 
"I'd  no  idea  you  were  so  keen  on  widows.  But  calm 
yourself;  she  won't  grace  my  humble  dwelling  by  her 
presence — no  such  luck.  We  will  be  granted  the  priv- 
ilege of  admiring  her  manifold  charms  at  Les  Sables. 
The  Concours  begins  there  to-morrow,  and  I'll  have 
the  honor  of  presenting  eight  of  my  horses,  including  my 
champion  Fier-a-bras,  raised  four." 

"The  Concours  begins  to-morrow?  What  luck!" 
Loic  cried,  absolutely  forgetting  for  the  minute  the  very 
existence  of  widows  in  general  or  particular.  "Are  you 
serious?" 

"As  serious  as  serious  can  be.  From  to-morrow 

283 


THE   TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

morning  on  G.  d'Yffiniac,  trainer  and  breeder,  will  be 
all  day  long  at  the  above  address,  and  trusts,  by  a  careful 
attention  to  business,  to  merit  a  continuance  of  the 
Nobility's  and  gentry's  kind  patronage.  Don't  you  see, 
you  donkey,  it  was  one  of  my  reasons  for  being  so  anxious 
to  get  you  here!  I  want  to  obtain  your  valuable  ser- 
vices." 

"Oh,  Lord!  why  didn't  you  say  so  at  once?  Fancy 
keeping  such  a  revelation  for  the  fag-end  of  the  evening!" 

Ghislain  drew  in  his  legs  and  leaned  forward  to  light  a 
fresh  cigarette. 

"Then  you  really  don't  mind  riding  three  or  four 
horses  in  the  ring?"  he  asked,  joyful  anticipation  beaming 
all  over  his  merry  face. 

"Mind!  Who  do  you  take  me  for?  I'll  like  nothing 
better;  but,  now,  tell  me  all  about  the  horses,  for  I  feel 
doubly  interested  in  them  now,  of  course." 

Ghislain  gave  a  grunt  of  pleasure.  "My  pale-faced 
brother  has  spoken  well;  he  expresses  my  desires,"  he 
said,  with  deliberate  expansiveness ;  "but  suppose  we  go 
now  and  give  them  a  look.  We've  an  hour  yet  of  this 
silvery  gloaming  before  us,  and  we  can  find  our  way  to 
the  stables  as  easily  as  at  high  noon." 

It  was  a  crisp,  fragrant  evening  outside,  with  a  crescent 
moon  of  alabaster  whiteness  rollicking  on  its  back  above 
the  park  trees  in  a  sort  of  drunken,  lazy  way  amid  the 
slowly  darkening  azure  of  the  sky. 

Loic  and  Ghislain  crossed  the  lawn,  chatting,  on  their 
way  to  the  stables,  where  the  horses  were  even  then  at 
their  nightly  toilets,  just  like  fine  ladies  in  the  hands  of 
careful  attendants  on  the  eve  of  a  great  social  event. 
Only  their  dressing-rooms  were  loose  boxes,  carpeted 
with  freshly  shaken  straw,  and  their  attire  very  hand- 
some green-and-white  rugs  and  quarter-pieces  buckled 

284 


THE   TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

upon  their  sleek  flanks  and  marked  G.  Y.  in  monogram, 
surmounted  by  a  Count's  coronet. 

They  all  shook  themselves  and  stood  at  attention, 
every  fibre  strung  to  pleasurable  excitement,  as  the  steps 
of  their  much-loved  master  sounded  on  the  pavement  of 
their  luxurious  dwelling,  and  were  quite  willing  to  have 
their  blankets  turned  back  and  their  satiny  coats  ad- 
mired. 

Cceur  de  Roi,  who  had  arrived  but  an  hour  before, 
was  lodged  side  by  side  with  the  celebrated  Fier-a- 
bras,  and  turned  his  infinitely  caressing  eyes  on  Loic 
as  the  well-known  hand  held  out  some  sugar,  and  the 
voice  he  loved  best  said,  with  the  fond  tone  a  man  uses 
to  a  much-cherished  woman,  "Ah,  you  dear  old  boy;  so 
you're  here,  too!" 

"He's  in  first-rate  form.  Why  don't  you  present 
him?"  Ghislain  asked,  almost  imploringly. 

"Isn't  it  too  late  to  enter  his  name?"  inquired  Loic, 
eagerly. 

"Not  at  all,"  his  host  replied.  " Not  at  all.  My  uncle 
is  Vice-President  of  the  concern,  if  you  please,  and  so  I 
can  do  as  I  jolly  well  like.  Do  let  me  send  a  man  early 
to-morrow  morning  with  Cceur  de  Roi's  name  and  pedi- 
gree, there's  a  good  fellow." 

"By  all  means;  and  as  to  his  pedigree,  I  flatter  myself 
that  it  leaves  nothing  to  be  desired.  He  is  out  of  Fairy 
Princess  by  Sea-King,  and,  furthermore,  stretches  up  to 
his  long  line  of  ancestry  by  Black  Devil  out  of  Eglan- 
tine, by  Demoniac  out  of  Morning-Star,  by  Chouan  First 
out  of  Frondeuse,  and  straight  up  to  Imperator,  one 
of  the  greatest  steeplechasers  ever  sent  over  the  course, 
as  you  know.  What  d*  you  say  to  that?  Besides,  he's 
clever  enough  for  anything,  is  trained  to  close  and  open 
country,  and  is  a  perfect  water- jumper  and  fencer." 

285 


THE   TRIDENT    AND   THE    NET 

Ghislain  fairly  gasped  with  joy.  "  What  a  pair  he 
and  Fier-a-bras  will  make!"  he  exclaimed.  "They'll  open 
the  eyes  of  Messieurs  les  juges;  but  by  the  setting  of 
Cceur  de  Roi's  neck  I  should  imagine  that  he  takes  a 
deal  of  riding?" 

"He  does!  That's  the  pleasure  of  it.  And  yet  he's 
as  docile  as  a  lamb  with  me,  and  goes  over  the  tallest 
yawners  like  a  bird."  Just  then  Cceur  de  Roi,  as  if 
he  understood  what  was  being  said  of  him,  suddenly 
caught  the  manger  between  his  teeth  and  kicked  out  in  a 
playful  way,  which  sent  both  young  men  into  roars  of 
laughter.  After  which  they  continued  their  tour,  and 
finally  sauntered  out  of  the  stables  surrounded  by  a 
small  mob  gravely  introduced  to  Loic  as  "my  house 
pets" — half  a  dozen  bull-terriers,  two  fierce  bull-dogs,  a 
couple  of  formidable  mastiffs,  and  a  magnificent  Great 
Dane,  all  jumping  around  them  in  frantic  delight,  while 
in  the  distance,  from  beyond  a  thick  barrier  of  firs  and 
pines,  the  hounds  loudly  gave  tongue  in  their  kennels, 
having  been  awakened  by  the  sounds  of  steps  and  the 
joyful  barks  of  their  master's  more  privileged  canines. 

There  was  a  laugh  in  Loic's  eyes  as  he  listened,  then 
something  more  earnest  came  over  his  face,  and,  pausing 
to  light  a  cigarette,  be  abruptly  asked  his  friend:  "By- 
the-way,  Ghis,  who  is  that  widow  you  were  trying  to  guy 
me  about?" 

"Ah,  ha!  so  you're  nibbling  at  the  bait,  Messire,  and, 
my  faith,  there's  reason  for  it!  That  widow -woman 
looks  like  a  white  camellia,  I  tell  you ;  her  hair  is  dark  as 
night,  her  eyes  of  deepest  sapphire,  her  shape  marvellous, 
besides  which  she's  dashing  in  her  style,  a  bit  of  a  co- 
quette, and  intensely  thorough-bred  to  boot,  if  you  insist 
on  knowing,  Madame  la  Vicomtesse  Gynette  de  Morieres." 

"Whew-ew!"  whistled  Loic,  facing  round;  "the 

286 


LA  VICOMTESSE  GYNETTE  DE  MORIERES 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

beauteous  Vicomtesse  Gynette!  Tell  me,  does  she  still 
wear  her  bandeaux  a  la  vierge  and  sport  sixteenth- 
century  tea-gowns?" 

"She  certainly  wears  her  hair  in  bandeaux  still;  but 
you  shouldn't  laugh  at  her  on  that  account,  since  she 
imitates  your  mother,  whom  she  adores,  in  coifjant  her- 
self thus.  Imitation,  you  know,  is  the  sincerest,  etc. 
Moreover,  she  is  a  gem,  is  Gynette,  pure  as  a  pearl  and 
plucky  and  thorough  and  honest." 

"Why  don't  you  marry  her  yourself,  if  that's  your 
opinion  of  her?"  Loic  said,  laughing;  <lbut  never  mind, 
you  gave  me  just  now  a  famous  fright,  for  I  thought  at 
one  moment  —  but  that's  neither  here  nor  there.  Tell 
me  why  the  Lady  Gynette  has,  according  to  you,  set 
her  ravishing  little  widow's  cap  at  me?" 

"Because  she's  long  been  in  love  with  you,"  Ghislain 
answered,  bluntly;  "and  since  she  considers  her  fan  a 
sceptre,  and  her  faintest  smile  an  honor  rarely  to  be  be- 
stowed upon  any  one  of  her  covey  of  admirers,  you 
should  really  feel  damned  proud  of  having  conquered 
that  Queen  of  the  Lists." 

Loic  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  laughed  again  with  a 
sensation  of  intense  relief,  since  at  the  word  "widow," 
pronounced  by  his  friend  over  the  coffee  and  cigarettes, 
he  had  felt  a  ridiculous  and  quite  senseless  dread  of  seeing 
the  gaudy  relict  of  Captain  Billot  suddenly  cross  his 
path  once  more.  The  pleasurable  disappointment  gave 
just  the  touch  needed  to  restore  his  normal  tone,  and  no 
shadow  lay  behind  his  gayety  as  the  two  young  men 
strolled  through  the  fragrant  dusk  towards  the  chateau. 

It  is  a  solemn  truth  that  on  the  turf  all  men  are  equal, 
and  this  truth  was  singularly  exemplified  in  the  appear- 
ance presented  by  the  little  sea-side  resort  of  Les  Sables 
d'Olonne  when  the  drag  driven  by  Ghislain  d'Yffiniac 

287 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

rattled  up  its  main  avenue  next  morning,  for  it  was, 
indeed,  a  motley  crowd  which  was  wending  its  way  tow- 
ards the  spot  where  the  great  horse-show  was  to  take  place. 
It  was  to  be  the  meeting-ground  of  many  classes,  though 
naturally  the  Patrician  factions  of  Vendee  and  Brittany 
were  by  far  the  most  prominent.  All  the  chdtelains  and 
chdtelaines  of  the  environs  were  driving  in  from  every 
side,  mostly  in  four  -  in  -  hands,  some  of  them  even  in 
d'Aumontst  with  brilliantly  jacketed  postilions,  their 
dazzling  equipages  hemmed  in  by  the  humbler  dog-carts 
or  cabriolets  of  gentlemen-farmers  and  the  carryalls  of 
tradesmen  and  their  families  bent  on  making  a  day  of  it. 
The  whole  place  of  exhibit  was  thronged  with  peasants, 
too,  who  had  gathered  from  far  and  near,  many  of  whom 
would  not  return  to  their  villages  until  the  Concours 
was  over,  but  would  drink  and  dance  and  wrestle  day 
and  night  during  the  intervals  of  the  show,  as  is  the  cus- 
tom for  Vende'en  and  Breton  peasants  to  do  on  such 
occasions. 

A  delicious  salt  breeze  swept  in  from  the  sea  to  cool 
the  hot  heads  of  those  who  had  walked  a  long  way,  and 
the  enclosure  around  the  Jockey-Club  pavilion  presented 
a  most  animated  spectacle.  The  stewards  were  already 
in  their  places,  and  many  agents  from  great  commission 
stables  walked  nervously  up  and  down  in  this  fraternity 
of  sports  and  manhood,  shoulder  to  shoulder  with  half 
the  titled  personages  of  France  and  a  multitude  of  cav- 
alry officers  belonging  to  the  crack  regiments  that  had 
sent  their  best  riders  to  try  for  the  much-coveted  gold 
medal  (de  ire  classe)  and  knot  of  royal-blue  ribbon  which 
it  is  the  ambition  of  every  horse-owner  to  obtain  at  least 
once  in  his  life. 

The  clock  of  the  club  pavilion  pointed  to  half -past 
twelve  when  Loic  and  Ghislain  crossed  the  ring  before 

288 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

the  clanging  of  the  saddling- bell,  and  glanced  up  at  the 
circle  of  boxes  and  the  rows  upon  rows  of  crowded  seats 
rising  above  the  select  "horseshoe." 

Everybody  there  knew  the  two  young  men  by  name 
and  sight  at  least-  the  Vende'ens  and  Bretons  present 
knew  them  more  intimately  yet,  and  that  from  their 
earliest  childhood,  and  eager  glances  followed  their  tall 
forms  as  they  moved  through  the  press,  nodding  to  their 
peers  or  bowing  to  the  bevy  of  lovely  Aristocrats  in  the 
boxes.  Indeed,  low  whispers  followed  them  just  as  if 
they  were  themselves  exhibits,  for  it  had  become  known 
that  they  were  to  present  the  two  finest  steeplechasers 
on  the  list — Cceur  de  Roi  and  Fier-a-bras ! 

"Look  at  Loic  de  Kergoat;  rides  no  end,  you  know. 
He's  just  back  from  the  plains  of  America." — "Ghislain 
d'Yffiniac  seems  in  good  form — already  a  trifle  too  heavy, 
though."  " Is  the  Marquise  here,  too?"  "  No,  gone  back 
to  Brittany."  "  Pity  Gaidik  is  away;  she'd  enjoy  this" 
— with  other  innumerable  phrases  of  real  affection  and 
sympathy. 

A  woman,  conspicuously  clad,  with  a  superabundance 
of  showy  flounces  and  bad  jewelry,  eyed  them  curiously, 
and  turned  all  the  way  round  in  her  second  -  row  seat 
so  as  to  face  Loic  as  the  latter  walked  with  Ghislain  to 
the  stable  entrance.  Glancing  up  at  the  same  moment, 
the  young  Marquis  saw  her  and  the  girl  sitting  at  her  side, 
and  received  a  most  exaggerated  and  affectionate  bow. 
His  eyebrows  contracted,  and  his  face  darkened  for  a 
second,  though  it  resumed,  almost  immediately,  its 
habitual  serenity;  and,  slightly  raising  his  hat,  he  strode 
away  after  his  friend  with  his  long,  lounging  horseman's 
swing. 

"Confound  the  woman!"  he  was  saying,  under  his 
breath,  and  then  he  had  just  time  enough  to  get  angry 

289 


THE    TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

at  himself  for  such  disproportionate  annoyance — "for 
surely,"  he  thought,  "it  will  be  a  simple  matter  to  avoid 
her  " — before  his  attention  was  distracted  by  a  very  differ- 
ent greeting  from  a  central  box  where  sat  the  Vicomtesse 
de  Morieres.  "  Ghislain's  widow  "  was  a  lovely  woman,  not 
yet  quite  twenty-four,  wearing  a  snowy  gown  of  silk  cloth 
and  embroidery  all  a-shimmer  with  tiny  little  silver  Bre- 
ton fleur-de-lise  buttons.  A  broad-brimmed  Chouan  hat 
of  white  felt  shaded  her  splendid,  dark-blue  eyes,  and 
the  glossy  black  bandeaux  imitated  from  Genevieve  de 
Kergoat — who  despised  fringes,  artificial  undulations,  or 
any  other  torturings  of  feminine  tresses — and  a  delicate 
perfume  of  jessamine  came  and  went  in  the  air  around 
her  as  she  slowly  waved  to  and  fro  her  big  fan  of  eagle's 
feathers.  Not  very  tall,  but  with  an  exquisitely  modelled 
figure,  typically  tiny  hands  and  feet,  and  a  thoroughly 
high-bred,  enthusiastic  Vendeen  temperament,  Gynette 
de  Morieres  was,  indeed,  a  remarkably  attractive,  whim- 
sical, delightful  little  woman,  changeable  in  her  moods, 
like  the  skies  of  her  beautiful  sea-coast  province,  and, 
like  it,  fascinating  always. 

During  that  whole  afternoon  she  sat  breathless  and 
radiant,  displaying  an  eager  interest  in  the  performances 
of  the  presented  horses,  as  became  a  great  lady  who  had 
first  flight  over  the  famed  Vendeen  autumnal  chasses, 
and  herself  owned  a  stableful  of  magnificent  hunters,  but 
when  finally  the  highest  prize  that  could  be  given  was 
awarded  to  Loic  and  his  beloved  Cceur  de  Roi,  and  the 
air  was  rent  with  applause,  this  dainty  sportswoman 
was  so  far  carried  away  that  she  actually  smashed  her 
fan  against  her  little,  white-gloved  hand,  and  flushed  a 
rich  rose  red  when  the  victor,  with  a  slight  bend  of  the 
head  and  a  rapid  glance,  dedicated  his  laurels  to  her. 

As  he  threw  himself  lightly  out  of  the  saddle,  and 

290 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

Cceur  de  Roi  was  led  away  for  the  after-ceremony  of  rub- 
bing, bottling,  and  clothing,  he  turned  to  Ghislain  and 
held  out  his  hand. 

"I'm  sorry,  old  boy,  ever  so  sorry,  that  Fier-a-bras 
should  have  been  beaten,  and  that  by  my  horse,"  he  said, 
in  his  simple,  winning  way. 

The  honest,  round  face  of  the  young  Eleveur  broke 
into  a  bright,  cordial  smile,  although  the  defeat  of  his 
horse  had  cut  him  for  a  moment  to  the  heart. 

"My  dear  lad,"  he  replied,  without  a  shadow  of  bitter- 
ness, "it  is  very  little  humiliation  to  lose  against  such 
riding  as  yours  and  such  a  superb  animal  as  Cceur  de 
Roi:  Pray  believe  that  I  would  not  have  had  it  other- 
wise— a  tout,  Seigneur,  tout  honneur  !" 

And  he  meant  it,  too,  for  Ghislain  d'Yffiniac  was  not 
the  man  to  cast  vindictive  blame  on  any  one  unless  it 
were  himself,  or  grudge  a  rival  so  well-earned  a  victory. 

Nevertheless,  Loic  felt  the  joy  of  the  moment  dimmed 
by  the  defeat  of  his  friend,  and  the  brightness  of  his  eyes 
was  clouded  as  he  strolled  backward  and  forward  on  the 
broad  strip  of  turf  behind  the  race-course  while  waiting 
for  him  to  finish  some  business  with  his  uncle.  The  gay 
toilettes  of  the  women  a  few  yards  away,  their  flower- 
wreathed  hats  and  multicolored  parasols,  produced  the 
effect  of  a  parterre  of  gigantic  blossoms  undulating  grace- 
fully to  the  accompaniment  of  the  lively  music  played 
by  a  military  band  installed  beneath  a  thatched  cham- 
pignon ;  the  fresh  sea-breezes  were  shot  with  delicate 
scents  of  roses  and  cigarette -smoke,  the  deep -blue  sea 
sparkled  gloriously  beneath  the  slanting  rays  of  the 
setting  sun,  and  yet  all  this  conglomeration  of  pleasing 
circumstances  did  not  conjure  the  frown  from  his  brow. 
It  was  just  at  this  precise  instant  that  fate  chose  to  bring 
home  to  him  the  memory  of  another  conquest,  for,  turning 

291 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

suddenly,  at  the  end  of  his  beat  he  found  himself  face 
to  face  with  the  Billot  women! 

"Oh,  Monsieur  le  Marquis!"  quoth  she,  smirking  and 
smiling  rapturously,  "may  I  be  permitted  to  offer  my 
humble  congratulations,"  and  then  added,  indicating  the 
blushing  girl  at  her  side,  before  he  could  recover  from 
his  surprise  and  annoyance,  "This  is  my  little  daughter, 
Monsieur  le  Marquis,  who  also  has  been  enthusiastically 
applauding  your  prowess  all  the  afternoon." 

Loic  bowed  silently,  without  any  perceptible  excess  of 
cordiality,  but  Madame  was  too  experienced  a  hand  to 
allow  herself  to  be  influenced  by  his  attitude,  and  smoth- 
ered the  angles  of  the  situation  in  a  gush  of  fluent*  au- 
dacities, so  that,  what  with  her  impudence  and  her  amo- 
rous ceillades,  her  opponent  was  so  far  disarmed  that 
he  found  himself  desperately  endeavoring  not  to  laugh. 

When  Ghislain,  breathless  and  fearful  to  have  shown 
discourtesy  to  his  friend  by  keeping  him  waiting  so  long, 
rushed  upon  the  scene  after  his  usual  harum  -  scarum 
fashion,  he  was  brought  up  standing  at  a  few  steps  dis- 
tant by  these  words: 

"I  owe  you,  Monsieur  le  Marquis,  the  two  proudest 
days  of  my  life.  The  first  when  you  rescued  me  so  mag- 
nificently from  deadly  peril,  and  now  when  I  can  remem- 
ber forevermore  that  I  had  the  honor  of  congratulating 
you  upon  your  great  victory,  and  making  my  courtesy 
to  you  before  all  the  world,"  with  which  grand  perora- 
tion she  did  at  last  courtesy  herself  away,  followed  by  her 
mute  and  still  blushing  "little  daughter." 

"How  in  thunder  do  you  come  to  know  Aline  Billot?" 
Ghislain  asked,  facing  round  to  gaze  after  them  with 
puzzled,  laughing  eyes.  "Wherever  did  you  meet  '/a 
p'tite  providence  des  sous-lieutenants'?" 

"What!  is  she  a  cocotte?"  Loic  exclaimed,  astounded. 

292 


THE    TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

"Oh,  not  by  any  manner  of  means!  A  very  bourgeois 
little  demi-castor  at  the  most.  An  orderly,  level-headed 
little  woman  who  reckons  with  her  vices  and  keeps 
them  within  proper  bounds,  and  who  never  accepts  any- 
thing more  valuable  than  bonbons,  gloves,  or  cheap  bits 
of  jewelry,  interlarded  with  an  occasional  box  at  the 
theatre  or  a  dejetiner  at  the  restaurant.  She  likes  uni- 
forms, though — preferably  cavalry  uniforms  worn  by 
very  young  men — hence  the  nickname.  How  in  the 
world  did  you  get  acquainted  with  her?" 

"Chanced  to  meet  her  a  few  days  ago  down  the  coast. 
But,  tell  me,  are  you  sure  of  what  you  say;  and  what 
about  this  daughter  of  hers  ?  Is  she  following  in  her  fair 
Mamma's  footsteps?" 

"The  daughter?"  Ghislain  echoed;  "well,  there  have 
been  stories  about  her,  too;  but  I  don't  know;  she's  pretty 
young,  and  not  very  happy,  I  fancy,  because  Madame 
sa  Mere  uses  her  mostly  as  a  chaperone  and  a  foil ;  but 
still,  of  course,  I  would  not  speak  of  her  in  that  tone,  you 
may  believe  me,  if  she  was  not  more  or  less  in  Queer  Street, 
too.  There's  another  little  girl,  a  child  of  fourteen,  who 
is  a  beauty  and  already  a  sad  flirt.  She'll  be  the  joy  of 
the  twentieth  century.  Poor  Rose — that's  the  elder  one's 
name,  as  you  may  know — is  silly  and  rather  down-trodden. 
A  curious  family,  taking  it  all  in  all,  a  singular  menage 
well  worth  studying.  They  live  at  La-Roche-Sur-Yon 
with  a  hair-dresser  brother,  a  scamp  who  knows  all  about 
the  little  ways  of  his  womankind,  and  smiles  encourag- 
ingly, since  their  presence  behind  his  counters  brings 
many  customers  there  and  much  grist  to  his  mill." 

"You  seem  well  informed,"  Loic  remarked,  dryly. 

"  I  am.  You  see,  a  friend  of  mine — and  of  yours,  too, 
for  the  matter  of  that — Jean  de  Tr£guidy,  was  on  the  best 
of  terms  with  this  estimable  widow  last  year  while  garri- 

293 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

soned  at  La  Roche,  where,  by-the-way,  my  uncle  spends 
most  of  the  year  in  his  exquisite  old  Hotel  behind  the 
gardens  of  the  Prefecture.  You'll  see  what  a  charming 
house  that  is,  for  he  asked  me  just  now  to  be  sure  and 
bring  you  to  stay  a  few  days  with  him.  It's  a  piece  of  pure 
medievalism,  let  me  tell  you.  The  Duchess  de  Berri 
took  refuge  there  during  several  weeks,  and  lived  in  three 
secret  rooms  behind  the  wainscoting  of  the  great  hall — 
the  place  is  honeycombed  with  secret  rooms  and  passages 
leading  right  and  left  into  darkness,  secret  staircases, 
sliding  panels,  etc.,  queerer  yet  than  the  one  I  showed 
you  at  Yffiniac  last  night." 

"I'd  love  to  see  them;  we,  too,  have  some  few  little 
things  of  that  kind  at  Kergoat,"  Loic  said,  enthusias- 
tically, the  eternal  child  waking  up  in  him;  "but,"  he 
added,  a  note  of  humor  appearing  in  his  voice,  "is  Jean 
de  Trdguidy  still  garrisoned  at  La  Roche?  I've  lost  sight 
of  all  my  old  friends,  of  course,  during  my  stay  in  Amer- 
ica." 

"No.  That's  just  the  point.  He  was  transferred  to 
Versailles  a  couple  of  months  ago,  much  to  the  widow's 
despair.  She's  no  doubt  anxious  to  replace  her  cuirassier 
lover  by  another  Breton  Noble,  which  explains  her  lan- 
guishing eyes.  You  should  be  flattered,  though,  since 
she's  ready  to  chuck  the  army  for  your  sake.  It  will  be 
the  first  time  that  she  has  deigned  to  glance  at  a  Pekin" 

"Don't  be  a  fool,  Ghis!"  Loic  cried,  with  pungency. 
"I'll  probably  be  obliged  to  go  away  day  after  to-morrow, 
anyhow.  The  Mater's  alone  at  Kergoat." 

"You  can't  leave  me  until  the  end  of  the  Concours,  at 
any  rate,  and  that  '11  last  three  days  longer,  after  which 
we  are  booked  for  La  Roche.  So  you  see  that  your  fate 
is  sealed,  and  that  Madame  de  Kergoat  must  needs  wait 
in  solitary  grandeur  a  little  while  longer.  But  let's  hurry. 

294 


THE  TRI'DENT  AND  THE  NET 

or  else  you'll  be  late  for  Gynette's  dinner-party.  Curious, 
now,  that  fair  ladies  don't  rush  to  celebrate  my  victories 
with  wine  and  wassail!" 

Of  a  truth,  Madame  de  Kergoat  was  just  then,  if  he 
had  but  known  it,  insuring  "solitary  grandeur"  to  herself; 
for,  to  his  boundless  indignation  and  astonishment,  Loic 
found,  on  returning  to  Yffiniac  late  that  night,  a  broad, 
crested  envelope  addressed  in  her  clear,  bold  hand,  and 
containing  nothing  save  his  own  letter  torn  across  and 
across  with  a  thoroughness  that  allowed  no  doubt  as 
to  the  sincerity  of  the  perpetrator's  intentions. 

"Oh  ho!"  Loic  commented,  as  the  pieces  fluttered  to 
his  feet.  "So  that's  the  way  you  take  my  attempted 
apologies,  my  dear  Mother!  Well,  then,  you'll  have  to 
wait  a  long  time  before  I  send  some  fresh  ones!"  and,  with 
a  heavy  frown  on  his  handsome  face,  he  strode  away  to 
find  his  friend  in  the  smoking-room. 

"I'll  go  with  you  to  La-Roche-Sur-Yon  when  the 
Concours  is  over,"  he  said,  sharply,  far  more  as  if  de- 
livering an  ultimatum  than  as  if  accepting  an  invitation; 
but  Ghislain  was  much  too  delighted  to  notice  either  the 
frown  or  the  tone,  and  began  at  once  to  build  inter- 
minable and  complicated  plans  for  his  friend's  amuse- 
ment. Trusting  eventually  to  persuade  Loic  to  remain 
for  some  time  at  Yffiniac,  he  had  already  held  long  sessions 
in  his  mind  as  to  whether  he  should  not  ask  other  men 
down  to  meet  him.  It  was  but  slim  hospitality,  he 
thought,  to  provide  for  his  entertainment  nobody  but 
himself,  his  dogs,  and  his  horses;  but  this  visit  to  La 
Roche  arranged  everything,  more  especially  as  the  Vicom- 
tesse  Gynette  lived  there  too,  her  sumptuous  gardens 
touching  those  of  his  uncle. 

"He'll  not  lack  amusement,"  he  thought,  joyfuily, 
remembering  how  well  those  two  had  pulled  together 

295 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    *T  H  E    NET 

that  very  evening  during  the  Vicomtesse's  charming  little 
dinner;  and,  aloud,  he  added:  "You  see  that  you  are 
destined  to  fall  into  Gynette's  nets,  and  to  become  better 
acquainted  with  the  firm  of  Billot  &  Co."  As,  alas,  he 
was! 

La- Roche -Sur- Yon,  or  Napoleon -Vende'e,  is,  as  the 
guide-books  poetically  put  it,  "  a  town  founded  by  Na- 
poleon in  the  centre  of  the  rebellious  province  of  La 
Vendee,  and  is  united  with  La-Roche-Sur-Yon,  an  ancient 
appanage  of  the  Bourbons,  which  now  forms  a  suburb 
to  the  larger  and  more  modern  town.  Population, 
8841." 

What  the  guide-books,  however,  neglect  to  state  is 
that  this  little  town  is  deliciously  situated  amid  verdant 
woods,  and  that  almost  all  its  houses,  whether  modern  or 
ancient,  are  planted  in  the  midst  of  beautiful  gardens  to 
which  the  mildness  of  the  climate  lends  a  surpassing  rich- 
ness of  foliage  and  bloom.  Camellias  are  used  as  hedges 
in  the  Jardin  de  la  Prefecture,  and  fuchsias  six  feet  in 
height  are  not  a  rarity  within  the  sheltering  walls  of  the 
great  parks  wherein  are  hidden  the  Hotels  belonging  to 
the  old  Nobility. 

One  of  the  handsomest  of  these  was  owned  by  the  bach- 
elor Marquis  d'Yffiniac,  who  regarded  with  very  tender 
feelings  its  long  stone  terraces,  leading  down  into  what 
were  called  les  vieux  jardins,  its  many-mullioned,  deep- 
embrasured  windows,  its  tall  and  picturesque  slate  roofs. 
It  was  one  of  those  corners  of  ancient  France  which  keep 
unspoiled  the  memories  of  days  long  departed,  and  are 
undisturbed  by  all  the  changes  and  clamor  of  to-day.  Its 
historical  associations  also  appealed  to  the  old  Noble- 
man, and  he  liked  to  think  that  Ghislain's  children  would 
be  there  after  him.  Little  bits  of  his  heart  were  twined 
round  every  corner  of  this  splendid  cradle  of  his  child- 

296 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

hood,  his  very  blood  seemed  to  glow  in  the  tinted  light 
of  its  gorgeously  painted  casements;  and  when  at  night 
the  massive  bolts  and  complicated  steel  locks  of  its  arched 
portals  were  fastened  by  his  old  servants,  and  he  heard 
the  owls  hoot  and  the  winds  whisper  in  the  thick-leaved 
trees  that  fingered  the  window-panes  with  the  touch  of 
kinship  and  ancient  association,  he  loved  to  imagine  that 
no  such  thing  existed  as  republican  France,  and  that  all 
the  horrors  of  recent  years  were  a  mere  nightmare  and 
no  grim  reality. 

A  type  this  old  Marquis — very  similar  to  that  of  Loic's 
childhood  friend,  the  impoverished  Marquis  de  Kerdou- 
gaszt,  only  with  millions  at  his  command  and  a  high 
position  among  the  true  Royalists,  the  fine  fleur  of  the 
Legitimists — not  the  Orleanists,  whom  he  would  not  even 
recognize  as  in  the  least  Royal,  despite  the  overweening 
presumption  which,  since  the  death  of  the  Comte  de 
Chambord  (Henry  V.,  Monsieur  d'Yffiniac,  of  course,  called 
him),  made  them  style  themselves  "the"  Bourbon,  and 
aspire  to  the  Throne.  Oh,  with  what  ineffable  disgust 
the  Grand  Seigneur  would  turn  his  silvered  head  away 
when  these  upstarts  were  mentioned  in  his  presence! 

When  Ghislain  and  Loic,  on  the  last  day  of  the  Con- 
cerns, drove  up  to  the  vermiculated  and  delicately 
carved  perron,  the  ruddy  glow  of  the  setting  sun  il- 
lumined the  exquisite  building  and  gilded  the  Banksian 
and  tea  roses  climbing  all  over  it  where  the  ivy,  centuries 
their  senior,  left  them  any  space.  This  was,  indeed,  a 
place  to  be  proud  of ;  despite  its  great  stateliness,  a  home 
that  all  one's  heart  went  out  to  in  warm  reverence,  a 
home  inherited  as  such,  which  time  and  tradition  had 
most  sweetly  consecrated,  not  a  mere  shell  purchased  for 
more  or  less  gold  and  haunted  by  the  spirits  of  many 
unknowns. 

ao  297 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

"I  love  my  Vendee,"  the  old  Marquis  was  wont  to  say. 
"It  is  not  as  grand  or  picturesque  or  superb  in  outline  as 
Brittany,  but  among  its  shadowy,  leafy  roads,  its  fern- 
brakes,  its  deep  grasses,  and  its  vast  forests,  all  dim  and 
dewy  and  green  and  delicious,  one  can  sometimes  forget 
modern  civilization,  which  is  grotesque,  insincere,  vulgar, 
and  unutterably  clumsy." 

In  La-Roche-Sur-Yon  there  were  many  noble  houses 
which  flung  wide  their  doors  to  welcome  Loic  within ;  old 
friends  of  his  father  showered  invitations  upon  this  young 
man  about  whom  his  stormy  boyhood  and  cowboy  ad- 
ventures cast  a  halo  of  romance — a  thing  highly  valued 
in  our  prosaic  age — and  who  bore  the  glory  of  a  great 
name  on  his  broad  shoulders  with  all  the  desinvolture 
of  one  truly  belonging  to  la  vieille  roche.  There  had 
been  much  speculation  in  purely  Legitimistic  circles  at 
the  time  when  the  young  Marquis  attained  his  majority. 
Of  course  it  was  known  that  his  sympathies  would  be 
Legitimistic,  because  every  bearer  of  his  name  had  been 
a  staunch  Royalist  ever  since  the  most  remote  antiquity; 
still,  there  was  yet  an  open  field  for  speculation  as  to  how 
he  would  accept  the  responsibilities  of  his  position,  and 
when  he  made  his  appearance  at  La  Roche  there  was  an 
eagerness  displayed  to  secure  him  which  he  viewed  with 
mild  amusement. 

He  knew,  of  course — how  could  he  help  doing  so  ? — that 
he  was  a  great  prize.  He  had  had  a  twenty-year-long 
minority — as  ambitious  mothers  of  marriageable  girls  took 
care  to  remember — the  accumulated  profits  of  which  were 
now  ready  to  his  hand,  and  every  feminine  breast  palpi- 
tated when  he  entered  a  drawing-room.  None  of  the 
charmeuses  he  met  there  could,  however,  hold  a  candle 
to  the  Vicomtesse  Gynette,  and  once  or  twice  he  walked 
away  from  her  presence  with  a  singularly  fascinating 

298 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

new  emotion  stirring  in  him;  for,  although  he  did  not  love 
her  as  yet,  still  she  was  very  rapidly  taking  possession  of 
both  his  fancy  and  his  feelings.  "She  reminds  me  often 
of  Gaidik,"  he  thought,  "although  physically  she  does 
not  in  the  least  resemble  her ;  but  she  has  the  same  candid 
way  of  speech,  the  same  freedom  from  all  bias,  the  same 
broad-minded  frankness,  and  almost  the  same  luminous- 
ness  and  radiance  of  the  eyes  when  she  speaks,  which 
gives  so  much  warmth  and  fascination  to  a  countenance." 

"Gaidik,  always  Gaidik!"  Madame  de  Kergoat  would 
have  said.  Was  Gaidik  then  eternally  to  remain  his 
standard  of  perfection? 

Still,  there  was  one  respect  in  which  the  charming 
Vicomtesse  did  not  play  her  cards  well.  She  allowed 
Loic  to  see  too  clearly  how  much  she  desired  to  marry  him. 
There  is  a  great  truth  contained  in  the  famous  saying, 
"Uobjet  qui  nous  eckappe  est  naturellement  bien  plus 
attirant  que  celui  qui  nous  pour  suit''  for  men  are  prone 
to  be  wayward,  thankless,  and  given  to  yearn  especially 
after  the  unattainable,  and  in  his  heart  of  hearts  Loic 
resented  Gynette's  too-transparent  tenderness.  He  was 
irritated  sometimes  by  the  strange  pathos  in  her  eyes 
when  she  looked  at  him,  and,  although  she  was  an  almost 
perfect  incarnation  of  purity  and  dignified  great-ladyhood, 
yet  he  was  sensible  that  it  was,  more  or  less,  she  who 
was  taking  the  lead,  which  fact  lessened  by  half  his  very 
sincere  admiration  for  her  and  dulled  his  comprehension 
of  this  exquisite  nature,  whose  great  charm  was  an  entire 
simplicity  of  manner  and  expression. 

Originally  accepting  the  Marquis  d'Yfrmiac's  invitation 
for  a  mere  week-end,  a  fortnight  later  Loic  was  still  at 
La-Roche-Sur-Yon,  and  neither  that  old  Nobleman  nor 
Ghislain  would  as  yet  hear  of  his  leaving  them.  This 
period  was  almost  entirely  occupied,  for  one  person  at 

299 


THE    TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

least,  in  sending  currents  of  hatred  in  the  direction  of 
the  Vicomtesse  Gynette  with  all  the  force  of  a  very  malig- 
nant and  rather  ingenious  mind — that  of  a  little  bour- 
geoise  living  in  a  dull  and  scrubby  house  on  the  once 
Place  Napoleon,  above  a  gayly  painted,  mirror  -  lined 
coiffeur's  shop.  This  person  felt  that  there  was  some- 
thing radically  wrong  in  the  ways  of  the  Providence  of 
pretty  women  when  a  great  lady  like  the  Vicomtesse, 
simply  because  she  happened  to  be  a  great  lady,  had  no 
limit  to  her  joys,  her  luxuries,  her  pleasures,  and  possessed 
an  almost  inconceivable  potency  over  the  souls  of  men 
of  rank.  She,  Aline  Billot,  certainly  had  incontestable 
beauty,  but  yet  the  success  of  the  day  was  not  with  her. 
(She  had  only  been  able  to  throw  herself  in  Loic's  way 
three  or  four  times,  with  absolutely  no  result.)  It  was — 
and  how  she  ground  her  white  teeth  at  the  thought! — 
with  the  blue-blooded,  clever,  impudent,  dark -haired 
Patrician,  who  was  supposed  by  all  the  town  to  keep  the 
young  Marquis  de  Kergoat  tied  to  the  ribbons  of  her  fan. 
This  made  Madame  Billot's  naturally  irascible  temper  rise 
like  boiling  milk,  and  she  said  very  savage  things  indeed 
about  the  Vicomtesse  in  particular,  the  Aristocracy  in 
general,  and  a  republic  which  could  not  succeed  in  once 
and  for  all  abolishing  all  lines  of  social  demarcation. 
(Qui  n'est  pas  fichue  d'abolir  les  distances  /) 

She  herself  was  a  woman  in  whom  the  affections  had  a 
very  slight,  the  passions  a  very  large  place,  and,  being  of 
quite  boundless  ambition,  she  desired  above  all  things  to 
ensnare  this  magnificent  prize,  whom  she  suspected  an- 
other to  have  already  very  nearly  landed.  And  why  should 
she  not  succeed  even  at  this  the  eleventh  hour  ?  Had  not 
the  handsome  and  wealthy  young  Baron  de  Trdguidy  fallen 
a  ready  victim  to  her  charms — not  to  mention  many  other 
gay  Seigneurs,  doctors,  lawyers,  and  simple  land- owners 

300 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

who  successively,  or  collectively,  when  the  press  was 
great,  had  witched  away  at  her  side  the  ennui  of  a  small 
provincial  town  ?  For  Ghislain  had  been  rash  in  asserting 
that  the  army  was  her  only  happy  hunting-ground. 
She  was  eclectic,  was  this  jolie  parfumeuse,  and  far  too 
prudent  to  reject  some  big  fish  struggling  in  her  drag-nets 
because  not  clad  in  red,  or  blue  and  golden  scales. 

"And  yet  I  am  an  honest  woman!"  she  would  scream 
at  her  brother  when  this  delicately  thrifty  personage  re- 
monstrated with  her  regarding  what  he  called  her  ridicu- 
lous disinterestedness.  "I  am  an  honest  woman!  Not 
one  of  your  accursed  Aristocrats  is  more  so  than  I!  If  I 
have  lovers,  what  about  it?  So  have  they,  the  hypo- 
crites, and  I  never  accept  a  sou — no,  not  a  sou — df  you 
hear  me?"  He  heard,  and  knew  also  that  she  spoke  the 
truth  on  this  one  point — she  did  not  accept  a  sou — much 
to  his  regret,  be  it  said  in  justice  to  him. 

"Sacrte,  imbecile!"  he  would  politely  reply,  "what's 
the  use  of  it  all,  then,  if  it  brings  you  nothing  but  a  bad 
name?"  And,  turning  to  his  nieces,  who  often  assisted 
with  charming  abandon  at  these  little  family  amenities, 
"Oh,  if  you  ever  imitate  your  mother  I'll  break  every 
bone  in  your  bodies,  you  little  wretches!  And  as  to  you, 
Aline,  don't  let  that  Marquis  escape  you.  He  is  an  inti- 
mate friend  of  the  d'Yffiniacs,  just  as  Tr^guidy  was;  and 
though  you  will  as  usual  refuse  to  accept  anything  worth 
having,  the  whole  clan  will  again  visit  my  shop,  which  is 
disgustingly  neglected  since  you  have  been  wasting  your 
time."  At  which  worse  than  Harpagonian  .advice  the 
"little  wretches"  naturally  burst  into  irreverent  and  irre- 
pressible laughter. 

Such  an  education  had  borne  plentiful  fruits,  and  Mon- 
sieur Lierre's  nieces — to  put  it  mildly — had  long  since  lost 
that  delicious  bloom  of  untarnished  purity  which  is  the 

301 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

most  precious  and  the  frailest  possession  of  a  young  girl, 
and  which  French  mothers,  to  whatever  class  they  may 
belong,  prize  and  guard  above  all  things. 

Poor  Rose,  who  was  what  one  might  term  a  fourth- 
rate  soul  enveloped  in  a  first-class  skin — her  complexion 
was  really  unimpeachable,  and,  together  with  her  dazzling 
teeth,  her  only  beauty — bent  more  or  less  beneath  the 
eternal  storms  raging  between  her  quarrelsome  mother 
and  her  utterly  conscienceless  uncle.  She  had  had  a 
little  affair  of  her  own  already — a  little  affair  that  had 
forced  her  indignant  parent  to  hustle  her  away  for  a  time, 
and  the  consequences  of  which  were  hidden  far  away  in 
a  remote  farming  district,  where  a  poor  little  motherless, 
nameless  babe  was  being  most  untenderly  trained  to  the 
endurance  of  life's  miseries.  This  adventure  had  never 
been  forgiven  her;  indeed,  her  worthy  uncle  could  not 
get  over  the  foolishness  and  paltriness  of  it.  "To  fall  in 
love  with  a  common  soldier!"  he  would  untiringly  repeat. 
"Who  has  ever  heard  of  such  wicked  perversity,  such 
rank  immorality?"  This  punctilious  gentleman  was 
rather  fond  of  moralizing  when  it  could  be  safely  done, 
for  he  belonged  to  that  class  of  petit  bourgeois  who  are 
eager  to  discipline  everybody  but  themselves  and  those 
from  whose  pranks  they  desire  profit,  imagining  that  in 
some  inexplicable  way  their  preachings  redound  greatly 
to  their  own  credit.  So  he  and  his  sister — for  once  of  the 
same  opinion — generally  combined  their  efforts  to  make 
Rose's  life  as  unhappy  as  they  could,  taunting  her  with 
her  misdeeds  until  she  sometimes  wished  the  earth  would 
open  to  swallow  her  out  of  their  sight. 

Lately  another  dark  item  had  been  added  to  her  numer- 
ous sins,  since  her  mother,  who  was  as  sharp  as  a  needle, 
had  instantly  discerned  the  passionate  admiration  she 
entertained  for  Loic  de  Kergoat.  "Was  it  possible,"  she 

302 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

thought,  "that  there  could  exist  any  girl  so  stupid  as 
not  to  understand  the  immeasurable  gulf  separating  her 
claims  to  the  young  Marquis's  possible  regard  from  those 
of  a  woman  like  herself,  the  widowed  Aline  Billot?"  She 
was  too  clever  not  to  be  aware  of  her  own  many  short- 
comings, but  she  knew  also  that  a  dunghill  flower  may 
have  a  coarse  luxuriance  and  beauty  of  its  own  which 
often  catches  the  blunted  fancies  of  society.  Now,  her 
daughter  was  not  a  pretty  flower;  she  had  no  chic,  no 
beauty,  no  flavor,  so  it  behooved  her  to  remain  in  her 
corner  until  her  mother  bade  her  come  out  of  it  occasional- 
ly to  play  her  predestined  r61e  of  duenna.  From  the  full 
height  of  her  superiority  she  had  stooped  good-naturedly 
during  their  stay  at  the  sea-side  and  treated  Rose  almost 
as  a  friend,  and  in  return  this  insufferable  idiot  had  the  in- 
solence and  audacity  to  raise  her  pale  eyes  to  the  man 
whom  she  herself  had  determined  to  annex.  All  her  re- 
cent condescension  vanished  like  magic  at  the  irritation 
of  such  an  affront. 

Loic  had  scarcely  noticed  Rose,  had  barely  been  con- 
scious of  her  existence  until  the  opening  day  of  the  Con- 
cours,  but  since  then  a  sort  of  involuntary  pity  had  been 
aroused  in  him  by  her  crushed  and  almost  hypnotized  ap- 
pearance. For  Madame  Billot — had  she  but  known  it — 
he  entertained  frank  contempt.  "  She  is  ridiculous,  eaten 
up  with  vanity,  and  totally  ignorant  of  her  place,"  he 
said  to  Ghislain  one  morning  as  they  sauntered  out  of 
the  Parfumerie  Lierre,  where  they  had  made  a  rather 
prolonged  stay  under  the  fallacious  pretext  of  patronizing 
the  establishment,  but  really  because,  having  nothing  in 
particular  to  do,  a  passing  shower  had  suggested  the  idea 
of  taking  refuge  there,  and,  being  amused  by  the  hair- 
dresser's undeniable  bagout—  which,  by-the-way,  is  a  to- 
tally untranslatable  word,  standing  as  it  does  for  some- 

303 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

thing  essentially  and  solely  French  —  that  particular 
species  of  ready,  superficial,  rather  coarse  wit  which  is 
possessed  to  a  supreme  degree  by  the  lower  middle  class 
of  that  merry  land. 

"She  is  a  bit  loud,  that's  a  fact,  and  rather  pronounced 
in  her  oglings,  but  did  you  notice  Rose?  My  word,  she 
is  a  queer  one;  she  was  fairly  devouring  you  with  those 
big,  glassy,  owl's  eyes  of  hers.  Evidently  to  her  you  are 
a  Fairy  Prince,  something  never  imagined  before.  She  is 
badly  browbeaten,  by -the -way.  I  was  sorry  for  her, 
upon  my  honor,  just  now,  when  Madame,  her  mamma, 
sent  her  so  contemptuously  to  the  rightabout." 

"Poor  little  devil!"  Loic  muttered,  impatiently.  "I 
can't  help  feeling  sorry  for  her,  too;  she  must  lead  a  dog's 
life  between  that  clown  of  an  uncle  and  that  overbearing, 
selfish  mother.  Well,  fortunately,  it's  none  of  our  business, 
but  if  I  were  she  I'd  cut  and  run;  better  be  a  servant-girl 
in  some  respectable  family  than  what  she  is  now.  Didn't 
she  say  that  to-morrow  is  her  birthday?  Let's  stop  at 
Royard's  and  order  some  violets  for  her." 

"You're  not  going  to  send  that  wretched  little  girl 
flowers,  are  you?"  Ghislain  asked,  aghast. 

"  Why  not  ?"  retorted  Loic.  "  She's  a  poor  little  beast, 
kicked  and  cuffed  all  day  long,  and  it  will  give  her  a 
minute's  illusion  as  to  her  possession  of  womanly  charm ; 
pray,  why  should  I  not  send  her  twenty  francs'  worth 
of  violets?" 

"Because  it  will  convulse  this  gossipy  little  hole  of  a 
place,  and  make  her  jealous  mamma  furious  with  her, 
besides,"  the  prudent  Ghislain  argued,  rightly  and  stoutly. 

"Confound  the  woman  1  I  really  believe  that  I  shall 
end  by  hating  her,  and  I  hate  to  hate  such  people,  because 
it  puts  one  on  a  level  with  them!  Come  along,  I'll  send 
the  violets  just  to  spite  her — deuce  take  it!"  And  Ghis- 

3°4 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

lain,  seeing  that  it  was  quite  useless  to  oppose  his  ob- 
stinate and  headstrong  friend  any  further,  meekly  fol- 
lowed him  into  Royard's  handsome  shop. 

The  principal  of  that  fashionable  florist's  establish- 
ment came  forward  with  a  smile  to  take  Loic's  order; 
and  as  the  latter,  egged  on  by  contradiction,  was  de- 
manding to  see  some  silvered  rush  baskets — the  specialty 
of  the  house — he  called  out  to  an  assistant  busy  at  some 
distance  over  a  gorgeous  funeral  wreath: 

"Malghorn,  bring  me  the  new  heart-shaped  corbeilles; 
they  are  certain  to  please  Monsieur  le  Marquis." 

The  name  of  Malghorn  made  Loic  prick  up  his  ears, 
and,  much  to  his  astonishment,  he  recognized  the  man  ap- 
proaching with  the  baskets  as  his  mother's  former  employe. 

"How  do  you  do,  Malghorn? — are  you  getting  on  pros- 
perously since  you  left  Kergoat?"  he  said,  quietly,  sur- 
veying him  with  a  slightly  sardonic  little  smile. 

"Pretty  fairly  so,  Monsieur  le  Marquis,  thank  you," 
was  the  answer,  delivered  in  the  surly  tones  Loic  remem- 
bered so  well. 

"Glad  to  hear  it,"  Loic  replied.  "I  did  not  know  that 
you  were  in  Vende"e.  My  mother  had  told  me  that  you 
had  accepted  a  position  as  head-gardener  somewhere  in 
England." 

"  I  had,  but  the  place  did  not  suit  me,  and,  as  Monsieur 
Rivier  had  written  to  me  about  a  job  here,  I  came  away 
at  once  and  have  been  with  Monsieur  Royard  ever  since." 

"  Monsieur  Rivier?"  Loic  interrupted,  greatly  surprised; 
"why,  I  must  have  dropped  into  a  veritable  nest  of  old 
acquaintances.  Do  you  mean  my  ex-tutor,  who  was  such 
a  chum  of  yours  ten  years  ago,  Malghorn?" 

"  No,  Monsieur  le  Marquis,  I  mean  Monsieur  George 
Rivier,  his  brother,  who  is  a  lawyer  and  pleads  at  the 
tribunal  here." 

305 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

"  Indeed!  Well,  let  me  know  if  I  can  ever  do  anything 
for  you;  I'll  be  glad  to  do  so,"  and,  without  listening  to 
the  man's  awkward  acknowledgments,  he  directed  his 
principal  to  send  "that  queer  little  square  hamper"  full 
of  violets,  both  purple  and  white,  to  Mademoiselle  Rose 
Billot's  address. 

"The  heart-shaped  ones  would  have  really  been  too 
pronounced  and  suggestive!"  he  said,  laughing  merrily 
as  he  and  Ghislain  turned  their  faces  towards  the  Place 
de  la  Prefecture,  to  which  flippant  remark  his  sage  friend 
angrily  replied: 

"You  are  an  infernal  idiot,  Loic!  Your  gift  will  be 
the  talk  of  the  town.  I  could  see  that  already  in  Roy- 
ard's  amazed  expression,  and  in  the  nasty  little  smile  of 
that  diabolical-looking  assistant  of  his,  who  seems  once 
to  have  been  a  retainer  of  your  own.  They  evidently 
thought  you  were  ordering  this  gorgeous  affair  for  Gy- 
nette,  and  were  paralyzed  to  find  out  it  was  meant  for  la 
p'tite  Billot" 

"Oh,  don't  be  ridiculous!  I've  sent  dozens  of  bou- 
quets to  Gynette  lately,  and  many  more  dozens  to  all  her 
friends.  Why  shouldn't  I  ring  in  a  change  for  once,  and 
turn  my  attentions  to  the  tiers  etat.  It's  idiotic  to  make 
such  a  fuss  about  a  few  violets  given  to  a  child." 

"A  nice  sort  of  child!"  Ghislain  muttered,  contemptu- 
ously, but  Loic  did  not,  or  pretended  not  to,  hear  him,  for 
he  himself  was  beginning  really  to  fear  that  he  had  com- 
mitted something  of  a  betise,  and  so  hastened  to  turn 
the  conversation,  which  was  a  little  way  of  his  when  eager 
to  avoid  being  put  in  the  wrong. 

Could  he  but  have  been  aware  of  the  malignant  joy 
with  which  his  erstwhile  foe  Malghorn  recorded  the  inci- 
dent, and  in  what  way  he  did  so,  he  would  have  been  still 
more  convinced  of  his  extreme  foolishness. 

306 


XV 

The  Duke — "There's  some  old  saw  doth  warrant  observation. 
So  it  is  doubly  true — but  strange,  strange,  strange!" 

The  Page — "What  mean  you,  Sir?" 

The  Duke — "Why,  what  I  said  but  now, 
The  curse  of  littles,  tyranny  of  trifles, 
Of  th'  abject  infinitesimal.     Did  you  tell  me 
One  dammed  a  watercourse  with  a  wheaten  straw 
And  thereby  drowned  a  city,  or  another 
Hath  slain  a  mailed  knight  with  a  grain  of  sand, 
Or  given  a  posy  to  a  nursing  infant 
To  his  own  death  and  ruin,  I'd  believe  you! 
So  evident  it  seems  that  Fortune's  wheel 
For  her  swift  businesses  needs  must  have 
A  fine  and  delicate  axle."  M.  M. 

THE  old  Marquis  d'Yffiniac  had  taken  a  great  fancy 
to  Loic,  and  warmly  urged  him  to  accompany  him 
to  the  chateau  of  the  Due  Audibert  d'Hauterive,  a  cele- 
brated sportsman  and  M.F.H.,  where  he  himself  was 
booked  to  spend  the  two  first  weeks  of  the  hunting  season. 

"Audibert  and  I  were  at  school  together  with  your 
grandfather,  my  boy,"  the  old  Nobleman  explained, 
and  he  is  anxious  to  refresh  his  acquaintance  with  you, 
whom  he  has  not  seen  since  you  were  in  long  clothes. 
Do  come.  I  had  a  letter  from  him  this  morning  asking 
me  positively  to  bring  you.  His  place  is  the  finest  one 
in  all  Vendee,  and  is  kept  in  a  fashion  that  does  one's 
heart  good  to  see,  especially  nowadays,  when  fortune  has 
dealt  hardly  with  so  many  of  us.  It  hurts  one  to  see  an 
old  chateau  that  has  survived  the  culverins  of  past  wars 

307 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

and  the  torches  of  the  Revolution  left  to  neglect  and 
decay,  but  such  is  not  the  case  with  the  Chateau  d'Hau- 
terive,  for  Audibert  is  enormously  rich,  and  cares  for  it 
like  the  very  apple  of  his  eye.  Really,  you  should  ac- 
cept his  invitation.  I  know  you  would  like  it  all  im- 
mensely." 

Unfortunately,  however  tempting  these  inducements 
were,  Loic's  desire  to  accompany  Ghislain  back  to  Yffiniac 
prevailed.  He  had  had  enough  of  gayeties  for  the  pres- 
ent, and,  moreover,  he  was  in  a  singularly  unsettled  frame 
of  mind,  thanks  to  his  mother's  persistent  silence,  to 
Gynette's  more  and  more  visible  ensnarement  and  de- 
termination to  marry  him  whether  he  liked  it  or  not,  and 
finally  to  the  hornet's  nest  he  had  set  buzzing  about  his 
ears  by  his  ill-advised  birthday  offering  to  Rose  Billot. 

He  had  had  a  scene  of  the  highest  comicality  with  the 
widow  Billot  on  the  day  following  the  sending  of  the 
violets;  for,  meeting  her  by  chance  on  the  Cours — a 
lonely  and  verdant  avenue  behind  the  Prefecture — where 
he  was  smoking  his  post-prandial  cigarette  before  dressing 
for  a  ball,  he  had  been  unable  to  avoid  the  encounter  and 
had  been  flooded  with  reproaches,  tears,  and  recrimina- 
tions, capped  by  a  most  shameless  and  disconcerting 
declaration  of  love.  Indeed,  so  great  had  been  the  lady's 
agitation  that,  nolens-volens,  he  had  been  forced  to  sup- 
port her  tottering  steps  and  escort  her,  still  sobbing  and 
quaking  like  a  frightened  doe,  along  back  streets  and 
poetically  moonlit  lanes  to  within  a  few  yards  of  her 
dwelling. 

"The  length  and  breadth  of  Vende'e  will  soon  be  too 
hot  to  hold  me,"  quoth  Loic  to  himself,  furiously,  as  he 
rapidly  retraced  his  steps.  "Curse  the  woman!  Does 
she  imagine  that  I'm  inclined  to  play  Don  Juan  to  her 
superannuated  Juliet.  The  idea  of  her  throwing  her- 

308 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

self  at  my  head  in  this  barefaced  fashion! — though  it 
serves  me  right  for  playing  the  fool.  Ghislain  was  correct 
— I  am  an  infernal  idiot!" 

The  mere  thought  that  he  was  being  made  ridiculous 
by  the  widow's  ardent  pursuit  was  unendurable  to  him, 
and  his  face  was  still  heavily  clouded  when,  an  hour  later, 
he  made  his  bow  to  one  of  the  wittiest  and  most  exclusive 
of  Vende"en  great  ladies  at  the  entrance  of  her  magnificent 
salons. 

Vicomtesse  Gynette  was  one  of  the  latest  to  arrive; 
she  was  clad  in  absolutely  unrelieved  white,  diamonds 
and  pearls  shining  all  over  her  from  head  to  foot,  and  her 
entrance  was  the  sensation  of  the  evening,  yet  her  face 
was  singularly  pale,  and  there  were  faint  azure  circles 
beneath  her  eyes.  She  felt  what  the  Orientals  call  an 
asp  at  the  heart,  and  found  evidently  no  solace  in  the 
enthusiastic  homage  cast  at  her  little  feet  throughout 
the  evening.  As  she  sat  amid  the  changing  groups  of 
distinguished,  high-born,  handsome  men  that  bent  be- 
fore her  and  hung  on  her  slightest  word,  she  looked  but 
for  one  figure  that  kept  aloof  and  was  leaning  moodily 
against  the  gilt  railing  of  a  balcony  opening  upon  a  cedar- 
circled  lawn,  where  the  tall  jets  of  many  fountains  sprang 
up  like  crystal  aigrettes  in  the  light  of  hundreds  of  deli- 
cately tinted  lanterns. 

"Loic,"  she  said,  abruptly,  to  him  when  she  had  at 
last  succeeded — by  manoeuvres  which  a  month  ago  she 
would  have  condemned  as  utterly  despicable — in  decoy- 
ing him  into  the  winter-garden — a  marvel  of  floral  splen- 
dors, of  fairy-like  seclusion,  and  rosy -shadowed  fragrance 
— "Loic,  are  you  angry  with  me?" 

"Certainly  not.  What  makes  you  imagine  such  a 
thing?"  he  replied,  looking  at  her  with  some  astonish- 
ment, for  her  tone  had  a  pleading,  humble  note  in  it 

309 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

which,  in  spite  of  her  too  frankly  betrayed  tenderness,  he 
had  never  heard  before  that  night. 

"You  do  not  dislike  me,  do  you?" 

"My  dear  Gynette,  what  on  earth  is  the  matter  with 
you? — are  you  ill?"  he  exclaimed,  bending  towards  her  to 
look  the  better  into  the  dark-blue  eyes  that  met  his  un- 
flinchingly, and  seemed  in  some  strange  way  to  speak  of 
passion  and  strong  resolve,  and  pride  too  great  not  to 
disregard  itself. 

"Will  you  marry  me?" 

Loic  was  too  utterly  taken  by  surprise,  too  stupefied, 
to  reply  at  once.  What  could  she  be  thinking  of,  this 
exquisitely  beautiful,  immensely  wealthy  great  lady,  to 
offer  herself  to  him  thus  ?  Had  the  whole  world  of  women 
gone  mad? 

"Will  you?"  she  repeated,  her  gaze  still  steadfast, 
though  two  great  tears  slipped  swiftly  from  her  lashes 
and  rolled  unchecked  to  the  plastron  of  diamonds  at  her 
breast. 

With  a  sudden  tender  impulse  Loic  dropped  on  one 
knee  beside  her,  and,  taking  both  her  cold,  trembling  little 
hands  in  his  warm  grasp,  said,  softly: 

"Don't  speak  like  that  to  me,  Gynette;  I  do  not  de- 
serve it,  my  poor  little  girl." 

"Oh,  Loic,  I  know  that  what  I'm  doing  is — is — degrad- 
ing and — and — shameful,"  she  said,  a  little  breathlessly, 
the  beating  of  her  heart  almost  audible  in  the  stillness 
around  them;  "but  I  am  past  observing  the  dictates  of 
calm  custom  and — and — conventional  routine.  You  do 
not  love  me,  I  know  it — at  least,  not  as  I  had  hoped  you 
would — but  I  love  you;  oh,  I  do,  I  do,  with  every  nerve 
and  fibre  of  me,  fiercely,  blindly,  exclusively!  That  is 
what  gives  me  courage  to  ask  you  again.  Will  you 
marry  me,  Loic?" 

310 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

Loic  was  completely  staggered.  Here  was  royal 
beauty  and  sweetness  wooing  with  a  compelling  power 
of  which  he  had  never  dreamed  —  with  a  brave -eyed, 
pathetic  simplicity  that  brought  a  mist  before  his  own 
vision.  To  half  her  loveliness  and  charm  mere  chivalry 
would  have  yielded,  and  yet — and  yet — such  blind  con- 
fidence bred  in  him  a  surprising  distrust  of  himself.  And 
would  it  be  right  or  fair  to  take  in  gold  and  to  pay  in 
lead?  Thus  he  thought  in  one  second's  lightning-flash, 
and  then: 

"I  must  repeat  it,  Gynette,"  he  said,  sadly;  "I  am  not 
worthy  of  such  love  as  yours.  What  could  I  give  you  in 
return?  Wealth  and  rank?  You  have  both  and  to 
spare.  Loyalty  and  tenderness?  You  deserve  more 
than  that.  You  would  waste  your  life  in  fretting  impa- 
tience at  my  shortcomings,  at  my  dislike  of  any  curb, 
of  any  set  rule  or  duty.  You  do  not  know  me  as  I  am; 
you  do  not  realize  what  I  have  made  my  mother  and 
Gaidik  already  suffer.  Give  me  up,  dear,  while  there  is 
still  time.  I  would  only  make  you  miserably  unhappy. 
I  know  I  would,  and  you  would  soon  regret  it  if  I  answered 
you  as  you  now  desire." 

"That  is  for  me  to  judge!"  she  exclaimed,  her  voice 
hoarse  with  deep  feeling,  her  eyes  brimming  over  with 
tears.  "Such  as  my  life  is,  it  is  yours,  yours  only,  yours 
always,  to  do  with  as  you  please.  I  will  ask  in  re- 
turn nothing  that  you  are  not  ready  to  give  me;  only 
let  me  be  about  you  and  near  you  as  your  wife;  let  me 
imagine  that  you  love  me  a  little,  and  I  will  be  content." 
She  stopped  with  a  little  catch  of  the  breath  that  seemed 
infinitely  pitiful  to  Loic.  He  was  fighting  against  that 
sorcery  of  touching  humility  in  the  proud  little  creature 
who  hitherto  had  been  an  undisputed  sovereign,  yet  who 
from  him  would  accept  the  yoke  of  any  slavery,  however 

3" 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

hard  to  bear.  He  gazed  into  her  eyes  with  a  fleeting 
expression  of  real  love. 

"You  are  unwise  in  tempting  me  like  this,"  he  replied. 
"  I  am  not  the  man  to  make  you  happy,  Gynette,  nor  any 
other  woman  on  earth.  You  are  ready  to  give  into  my 
hands  your  will,  your  reason,  and  your  soul;  I  must — 
ungracious  as  I  may  appear  to  be — show  you  the  conse- 
quences of  your  self-surrender;  indeed,  I  would  be  a  sad 
wretch  had  I  not  the  common  honesty  to  do  so." 

She  put  out  her  imprisoned  hands  in  a  gesture  of  sup- 
plication. 

"For  pity's  sake,  don't  try  to  do  that!  I  know  you 
better  than  you  think;  I  know  how  autocratic  and  self- 
willed  you  can  be,  how  high  is  your  temper — I  know  all 
your  faults,  Loic!  I  knew  them  before  you  went  away, 
when  I,  a  married  woman  then,  already  loved  you.  I  say 
this  because  it  is  true,  although  it  hurts  my  pride  to  con- 
fess it.  I  have  loved  no  one  in  all  my  life  but  you.  Have 
patience  with  me,  Loic;  try  and  judge  me  aright,  and  un- 
derstand me  if  you  can.  All  I  ask,  after  all,  is  that  you 
should  be  true  to  me." 

He  tried  to  speak,  but  she  would  not  let  him,  and  con- 
tinued, feverishly,  for  she  saw  that  he  was  faltering: 

"One  thing,  though,  I  will  not  be,  and  that  is  unfair  to 
you.  I  will  not  have  you  give  up  your  freedom  and  your 
future  at  my  bidding,  sacrifice  to  me  your  best  gifts — 
your  youth  and  your  liberty — on  the  impulse  of  the  mo- 
ment. You  are  going  back  to  Yffiniac  to-morrow.  While 
there  think  of  what  I  have  told  you  to-night,  and  in  a 
week — in  two  weeks,  if  you  like — come  to  me  and  bring  me 
your  answer.  Then,  as  now,  I  shall  be  ready  to  give 
you  all  and  claim  nothing  but  your  entire  loyalty  and 
fidelity  to  me.  And  now  let  me  go,  my  dear;  do  not  say 
another  word.  I  know  all  you  want  to  tell  me.  I  know 

312 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

you  do  not  love  me  as  lovers  do;  but  I  think" — and  here 
a  scarlet  wave  passed  over  her  delicate  features — "I 
think  that  I  can  teach  you  to  do  so." 

Her  voice  sank,  she  wrenched  her  hands  from  his,  and, 
slipping  shadow -like  through  a  tall  screen  of  feathery 
bamboos,  she  was  gone,  leaving  Loic  bewildered,  very 
pale,  and  with  all  the  warm,  melting  tenderness  which 
for  a  moment  had  lighted  up  his  whole  face  dying  down 
as  a  leaping  flame  dies. 

What  he  now  felt  was  no  longer  tenderness,  it  was 
amazement,  wonder,  pain,  and — yes,  fear;  for  Loic  had  no 
vanity,  and  he  dreaded  that  if  he  married  this  confiding, 
loving  woman  it  would  only  be  to  make  her  miserable. 
"I'm  an  untamable  animal,"  he  muttered  to  himself, 
and  his  honest,  self-distrusting  eyes — the  eyes  of  a  man 
who  had  never  known  save  in  the  seldom  oases  of  his 
sister's  society  what  it  was  to  have  complete  peace  from 
a  capricious,  harassing,  restless  feminine  influence — saw 
as  in  a  mirage  of  the  future  an  endless  succession  of  jealous 
scenes  and  hopeless  efforts,  and  he  hardened  his  heart  to 
the  memory  of  that  brave  gaze  and  that  quivering  voice. 

In  his  black,  despondent  mood  he  welcomed  the  sound 
of  approaching  voices  loudly  calling  his  name,  and,  quickly 
slipping  his  cigarette-case  from  his  pocket,  moved  in 
their  direction. 

"Where  have  you  been,  Loic?"  called  out  Ghislain, 
who  was  the  foremost  of  a  group  of  gay  youths.  "I 
thought  you  were  here  with  Gynette  ?" 

"We  want  you  for  the  cotillion,"  cried  those  behind 
him;  "we  were  despairing  of  ever  finding  you.  What  on 
earth  were  you  doing?" 

"Smoking  a  cigarette  in  peace,  Messeigneurs,"  he  an- 
swered, lightly;  "the  smoking-room  was  crowded  and  I 
have  a  bit  of  a  headache." 
ai  3'3 


THE    TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

Ghislain  looked  curiously  at  him. 

"  It's  odd  for  you  to  have  a  headache,"  he  said,  teasingly. 
"  Surely  you  are  not  thinking  of  leaving  us  in  the  lurch?" 

"  Never!"  he  answered,  with  admirably  assumed  gayety ; 
and,  as  with  apparent  eagerness  he  followed  them  into  the 
ballroom,  the  thought  of  Gynette  went  with  him  like  a 
haunting  ghost.  "Poor  little  girl!"  he  repeated  again 
and  again  to  himself,  impatiently.  "Why  could  not  I 
have  said  yes  and  made  her  happy,  poor  little  honest 
Gynette." 

His  repentance  for  what  he  had  neglected  to  do  was 
at  that  moment  quite  as  extreme  as  would  have  been  his 
dismay  had  he  done  otherwise,  and  he  cursed  himself 
throughout  the  night  squarely  and  unstintingly  for  what 
he  termed  his  brutality  and  ingratitude. 

Early  next  morning  a  card  was  brought  to  him  by  his 
own  man.  He  had  scarcely  finished  with  his  bath  and 
his  chocolate  and  was  lighting  his  earliest  cigarette.  He 
stared  for  a  second  or  two  at  the  small,  square  pasteboard, 
upon  which  was  engraved  "Georges  Rivier,  Avocat,"  and 
then  said,  angrily,  "What  the  devil  does  the  creature 
want?"  and,  turning  to  his  man,  added,  "Go  and  tell  him 
to  call  later,  Robin;  I  can't  receive  him  at  this  hour." 

"Deuce  take  him!"  he  thought.  "Surely  his  brother's 
title  to  our  gratitude  is  not  such  as  to  warrant  a  call!" 

Almost  immediately  Robin,  with  an  angry  countenance, 
reappeared. 

"Monsieur  le  Marquis,"  he  said,  in  an  agitated  way, 
which  nothing  but  strong  indignation  could  have  called 
forth,  "this  person  insists  upon — " 

"  Pardon  me,  Monsieur  le  Marquis,"  said  a  man  who  had 
followed  the  valet  so  closely  that  he  was  but  a  yard  be- 
hind him.  "Pardon  me,  but  I  must  really  see  you  on 
business  of  the  greatest  importance." 

3J4 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

Loic  was  so  astonished  that  for  the  second  time  in 
twenty -four  hours  he  was  at  a  loss  for  words.  In  a  mo- 
ment, however,  he  recovered  himself,  and,  looking  very 
formidable  and  uncompromising  in  his  white  flannel 
costume  d'interieur — which  made  him  appear  even  broader- 
shouldered  and  taller  than  usual — said,  curtly  and  with 
no  effort  to  conceal  his  displeasure: 

''This  is  a  rather  unwarrantable  intrusion  on  the  part 
of  a  total  stranger,  Monsieur." 

"Believe  me,  Monsieur  le  Marquis,"  the  other  replied, 
bowing  low,  "that  only  the  most  serious  reasons  would 
have  induced  me  to  commit  such  a  breach  of  etiquette." 

"My  memory  is  a  broken  reed,  Monsieur,"  Loic  said, 
dryly ;  "  this  must  serve  as  my  excuse  for  not  remembering 
any  incident  in  my  life  which  could  explain  the  interest 
you  appear  to  take  in  me." 

For  a  second  the  advocate  met  the  full  gaze  of  the 
calm,  gray  eyes  fixed  upon  him,  and  instantly  began  to 
shuffle  his  feet  uneasily. 

"Madame  la  Marquise  de  Kergoat,"  he  began,  awk- 
wardly enough,  for  this  young  man  in  white  flannels 
struck  him  with  sudden  misgivings,  "has  done  me  the 
honor  to  confide  in  me  to  the  extent  of  asking  me  to  call 
upon  you  with  regard  to  a  very  delicate — a — ah — very 
regrettable— ah— situation,  and,  therefore,  I  am  now  only 
fulfilling  a  mission," 

"My  mother  has  asked  you  to  call  on  me,"  Loic  asked, 
hardly  believing  the  testimony  of  his  ears,  "in  order  to 
discuss  a  delicate  situation  ?  I  fail  to  follow  you.  Will 
you  be  so  good  as  to  explain  yourself  a  little  more  clearly  ?" 

"Certainly,  Monsieur  le  Marquis,  certainly,  if  you  will 
kindly  allow  it,  and  if  you  will  permit  me  to  sit  down" — a 
courtesy  which  Loic  had  purposely  neglected  to  extend. 

"  Sit  down,  by  all  means,  if  you  think  it  will  disentangle 

315 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

your  ideas ;  for  if  I  did  not  see  with  my  own  eyes  that  you 
are  sober,  I  should  be  tempted  to 'believe  that  you  are 
yielding  to  the  dreams  of  intoxication.  Perhaps  you 
know  that  your  brother  was  some  ten  years  ago  dismissed 
from  my  mother's  employment  under  peculiarly  dis- 
graceful circumstances.  This  alone,  it  seems  to  me, 
makes  against  the  chance  of  the  Marquise  de  Kergoat's 
reposing  any  very  great  confidence  in  you." 

If  Rivier  No.  2  was  disconcerted,  he  certainly  pulled 
himself  together  sufficiently  not  to  show  it.  His  was  a 
secretive  sort  of  face,  somewhat  comelier  than  his  broth- 
er's, but  of  the  same  pasty  complexion,  crowned  by  sleek, 
thin  hair,  framed  by  lank,  pompous-looking  side-whiskers, 
and  furnished  with  dull  eyes  of  a  nondescript  blue  that 
seemed  admirably  adapted  for  the  concealment  of  thought. 
With  a  square-nailed,  ill-cared-for  hand  he  nonchalantly 
waved  aside  this  small  reminiscence. 

"Not  necessarily,"  he  said,  softly.  "Madame  la  Mar- 
quise de  Kergoat  is  too  just  to  make  one  brother  respon- 
sible for  the  misdeeds  of  the  other,  if  such  misdeeds  had 
really  existed;  but  permit  me  to  hope  that  this  was  not 
the  case,  since  it  was  through  Madame  la  Marquise  de 
Kergoat's  kind  mediation  that  my  brother  obtained,  a 
year  ago,  the  post  of  professor  of  mathematics  at  the 
College  of  Nimes.  Indeed,  it  is  owing  to  the  fact  that  he 
paid  his  respects  to  Madame  la  Marquise  a  few  days  ago 
that  she  became  aware  of  my  residence  in  this  neigh- 
borhood, with  the  result  of  my  receiving  the  letter  which 
constitutes  my  credentials.  Her  orders  are  peremptory." 

Loic  silently  surveyed  his  visitor  for  a  moment.  He 
saw  no  reason  to  doubt  the  man's  statements,  nor,  beyond 
a  slight  initial  shock,  caused  by  the  choice  of  messenger, 
was  he  even  surprised.  He  knew  only  too  well  that  his 
mother  belonged  to  that  type  of  autocrat  which  cannot 

316 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

exist  without  favorites  and  protege's.  A  succession  of 
these,  both  male  and  female,  had  "had  their  day  and 
ceased  to  be,"  and  most  of  them  had  ruled  the  Marquise 
with  a  rod  of  iron  within  their  sphere  of  influence,  and 
sometimes  even  outside  of  it,  in  matters  of  the  most 
private  concern.  Viewed  collectively,  all  were  more  or 
less  detrimental,  but,  aside  from  this  common  character- 
istic, they  were  as  strangely  unassorted  as  the  hoard  of  a 
magpie,  ranging  from  the  worthy  Rivier  himself  to  a 
flat-faced  Prussian  lady-companion  whom  Gaidik,  some 
years  before,  had  thrown  bodily  out  of  the  room  and  out 
of  employment,  ostensibly  for  gross  insolence  to  her 
mistress,  but  really  because  the  woman  had  attempted 
to  strike  her  beloved  little  brother.  By  making  use  of 
such  psychological  moments,  Gaidik  and  Count  Rene*  had 
rid  the  house  of  many,  and  more  had  "died  a  natural 
death/'  but  some,  as  in  the  present  instance,  had  suc- 
ceeded in  returning  from  outer  darkness,  even  after 
many  years. 

"Peremptory,  eh?"  Loic  replied,  at  last,  having  swiftly 
considered  the  situation  and  clearly  perceived  that  his 
old  enemy,  the  tutor,  was  to  have  a  hand  in  directing  this 
new  offensive  warfare.  "Well,  my  very  dear  Sir,  if  you 
have  any  message  to  deliver,  pray  do  so  without  further 
circumlocution,  for  I  like  plain  dealing  and  straight 
speech." 

He  was  puffing  steadily  at  his  cigarette  and  glancing 
lazily  at  the  now  thoroughly  uneasy  envoye  extraordi- 
naire through  little  blue  wreaths  of  smoke. 

"This  being  the  case,  Monsieur  le  Marquis,"  the  lawyer 
said,  with  an  effort  at  forensic  impressiveness,  "I  am 
sorry  to  say  that  Madame  your  mother,  thoroughly  dis- 
approves of  your  present  stay  and  relations  in  La-Roche- 
Sur-Yon,  and  that  she  desired  me  to  come  and  tell  you 

317 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

what  I  know  about  a  certain  person  with  whom  she  fears 
that  you  are  imprudently  entangling  yourself.  You 
must  pardon  me  for  textually  repeating  what  she  did 
me  the  honor  of  writing  to  me  on  the  subject." 

"My  mother  wrote  you  textually  this?"  Loic  asked, 
with  characteristic  bluntness,  but  without  as  yet  giving 
the  slightest  sign  of  temper. 

"Yes,  Monsieur  le  Marquis,  she  did,"  asserted  the 
other,  blandly.  "  If  it  were  not  so,  would  I  have  ventured 
to  come  here  on  such  an  errand?" 

"If  I  thought  you  capable  of  that,"  said  Loic,  looking 
at  him  thoughtfully,  "I  would  throw  you  out  of  the  win- 
dow. As  it  is,  I  will  only  throw  you  down-stairs  pres- 
ently for  presuming  to  accept  such  a  mission." 

Georges  Rivier  bit  his  ratty  fingers  anxiously;  he  was 
quickly  acquiring  the  impression  that  he  had  undertaken 
too  heavy  a  task,  in  his  eagerness  to  earn  a  five-hundred- 
franc  note. 

"You  have,  no  doubt,"  Loic  went  on,  in  the  same  calm 
and  even  voice,  "your  credentials  about  you?" 

"  No,  Monsieur  le  Marquis,  no.  I  was  merely  requested 
to  tell  you  the  antecedents  of  a  certain  widow  Billot, 
who—" 

"Don't  let  us  mention  names,  if  you  please;  it  is  ex- 
ecrably bad  form,  to  begin  with,  and,  secondly,  I  fail  to 
recognize  your  right  to  come  and  give  me  advice  upon 
that  or  any  other  subject,  even  by  my  mother's  directions. 
I  am  not  responsible  to  any  one  for  my  actions,  least  of 
all  to  you,  and  I  must  recommend  you  to  mind  your  own 
business  in  the  future.  What  I  merely  wanted  to  be 
certain  of  is  that  you  were  really  sent  on  this  scandal- 
peddling  expedition,  that  is  all.*' 

"I — I — don't  understand  why  you  should  be  so  indig- 
nant, Monsieur  le  Marquis,"  the  lawyer  hastily  protested. 

318 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

He  was  ludicrously  disconcerted.  The  cue  for  the  sono- 
rous moral  r61e  he  had  expected  to  play  did  not  seem  to 
be  forthcoming,  and  he  was  rapidly  getting  apologetic. 
"  I  am  a  man  some  years  older  than  yourself,  and,  having 
at  my  finger-ends  the  disgraceful  past  of  the  —  ah  — 
person  I  was  requested  to  warn  you  against,  it  is  quite 
natural  that  I  should  come  and  set  you  on  your  guard. 
Believe  me,  I  am  actuated  entirely  by  good  feeling,  and 
my  motives  are  strictly  above  all  question  of  personal 
interest  or  personal  acrimony.  The  duties  of  a  son 
towards  his  mother  are  — "  But  a  sudden  flash  of 
Loic's  half-closed  eyes  and  a  faint  curl  of  his  firm,  con- 
temptuous lips  brought  the  preacher  to  an  abrupt 
pause. 

"Am  I  to  conclude,  Monsieur  le  Marquis,"  he  resumed, 
after  a  silence  which  something  in  Loic's  attitude  ren- 
dered extremely  disquieting  to  him,  "that  you  decline  to 
hear  what  I  have  to  say?"  His  tone  was  one  of  mingled 
obsequiousness  and  exasperation,  and  his  loose  lips  were 
getting  unsteady — a  weak  mouth  is  apt  to  betray  its 
possessor  at  inconvenient  moments. 

"You  are  entirely  correct.  You  carried  your  little 
pickings  to  the  wrong  shop  when  you  brought  them  to  me. 
And  now  be  so  good  as  to  go  at  once  while  I  still  remember 
that  I  am  in  a  friend's  house,  where  I  have  no  right  to 
make  a  disturbance,"  Loic  said,  grimly,  rising  from  his 
chair  in  a  quick  and  rather  alarming  manner.  Rivier, 
who  had  gone  very  white,  tried  to  hold  his  ground. 

"You  m-m-must  not  speak  to  m-m-me  like  that,  Mon- 
sieur le  Marquis,"  he  stammered,  horribly  frightened. 
"I  am  an  honest  gentleman  who  means  you  well." 

Loic,  standing  close  to  him,  looked  down  at  this  paltry 
personage  with  immeasurable  disgust. 

"My  honest  gentleman,"  he  said,  without  raising  his 

319 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

voice,  "leave  this  room,  I  tell  you,  and  at  once,  or  I'll 
make  you!" 

"You  dare  not  touch  me!"  the  man  cried  out,  com- 
pletely losing  his  head.  "I'll  have  you  up  for  assault 
if  you  but  put  a  finger  on  me!" 

These  imprudent  words  were  hardly  out  of  his  mouth 
before  Loic's  hand  was  on  his  collar,  and,  calmly  lifting 
him  off  his  feet,  without  any  apparent  effort,  he  carried 
him  through  the  door  into  the  passage,  and  then  lightly, 
easily,  just  as  he  might  have  thrown  a  snarling  dog,  he 
flung  him  down  the  broad  flight  of  shallow  stairs — which, 
fortunately,  was  thickly  carpeted — into  the  hall  below. 
The  terrified  advocate  fell  unhurt,  even  unbruised,  and 
as  he  rose  his  hat  was  kicked  down  after  him.  Mechan- 
ically he  picked  it  up;  his  face  was  almost  blue,  his  eyes 
for  once  had  lost  all  their  dulness,  and  were  alive  with 
evil  expression,  and  his  lips  moved,  but  without  a  sound. 

"It  had  to  come  to  this,"  Loic  said,  still  with  perfect 
quiet,  sauntering  down-stairs  with  his  hands  in  his  pock- 
ets. "Sooner  or  later  we  would  have  met  again,  and 
now  my  debt  to  you  being  partly  paid,  I  hope,  for  your 
sake,  that  we  never  will."  Whereupon,  with  exquisite 
politeness,  he  opened  a  side  door  and  ushered  Monsieur 
Rivier  out. 

Never  a  word  did  the  man  say  until  he  had  placed  the 
three  stone  steps  leading  to  the  gardens  between  him  and 
Loic's  ready  fist,  then,  with  an  expression  of  extraordinary 
hatred  and  malignity  in  his  bloodshot  eyes — the  look  of 
some  one  rejoicing  inwardly  over  a  deep  and  certain 
revenge — he  muttered,  between  his  clinched  teeth:  "Very 
good — oh,  very  good!  Now,  my  fine  Marquis,  I  will  not 
spare  you!" 

It  is  to  be  presumed  that  Loic  did  not  hear,  for  he 
stood  quite  still,  watching  this  sorry  object  slinking  away 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

with  the  light  of  the  bright  autumnal  morning  sun  shining 
on  a  face  where  humiliation  and  deadly  rage  were  fighting 
for  mastery.  "Another  friend  that  I  have  just  made 
for  myself,"  he  said,  lightly,  half  aloud,  and  as  he  slowly 
walked  back  to  his  rooms  he  added,  with  a  weary  little 
sigh,  "But  what  an  ignominy  the  whole  thing  is!" 

Loic  drove  back  that  afternoon  with  Ghislain  to  Yffi- 
niac,  feeling  singularly  depressed.  A  tepid  drizzle  of 
rain  had  set  in  shortly  after  mid-day,  blurring  the  shad- 
owed landscape,  and  this  perhaps  accentuated  his  un- 
usually sombre  mood.  He  had  no  clew  of  any  kind  as 
to  what  his  mother's  dealings  with  such  a  man  as  Georges 
Rivier  could  possibly  portend,  and  nothing  that  his  in- 
genuity could  suggest  offered  even  a  faintly  satisfactory 
solution.  Write  to  ask  her  he  would  not;  he  was  far  too 
deeply  hurt  and  disgusted  for  that.  That  his  mother,  a 
great  lady,  hitherto  only  guilty  of  caprice  and  of  unwise 
outbursts  of  temper,  should  suddenly  set  spies  after  him 
utterly  confounded  his  simple,  straightforward  mind  — 
and  then  he  remembered  Malghorn.  "Ah,"  he  thought, 
"that  is  the  informer  1  He  must  have  written  or  made 
that  brute  Rivier  write  about  the  violets.  Well,  Gaidik 
was  right,  as  usual;  she  always  said  that  gypsy  was  a 
thorough  bad  lot." 

"What's  the  matter  with  you?"  Ghislain  asked  at  this 
point,  breaking  into  his  exasperating  train  of  thought. 

Loic  did  not  look  at  him. 

"Nothing,"  he  said,  shortly.  "What  should  be  the 
matter?" 

Ghislain  laid  his  hand  affectionately  on  his  friend's 
arm.  "You  are  not  in  any  trouble,  Loic?"  he  asked, 
vaguely  alarmed. 

"No,  my  dear  chap,  of  course  not." 

"Are  you  quite  sure  of  that?"  the  other  insisted, 

321 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

"because  there  is  mighty  little  I  wouldn't  do  for  you,  and 
I'd  take  it  ill  if  you  did  not  call  upon  me  in  an  emer- 
gency." 

Truly,  Ghislain  was  startled  out  of  his  usual  joyousness 
by  Loic's  drawn,  almost  haggard  face,  but  seeing  that  his 
questions  seemed  unwelcome  he  forbore  to  repeat  them, 
and  the  two  young  men  drove  on  through  the  softly 
falling  rain,  chatting  fitfully  of  indifferent  things. 

The  shore  road  they  followed,  after  leaving  the  forest 
lands,  was  very  lonely.  The  only  sign  of  life  was  the 
occasional  figure  of  a  gooseherd,  wrapped  in  his  wide 
mantle,  showing  dark  against  the  iron  sky  on  some  dis- 
tant elevation  of  the  illimitable  moorland,  scarred  here 
and  there  with  peat-cuttings  that  beckoned  the  eye 
across  its  broken  surface  of  furze  and  heather  to  the  far- 
off  horizon.  This  empty  level  merged  towards  the  north 
into  a  great  marsh  formed  by  some  ancient  inroad  of  the 
ocean — a  wild  expanse  of  earth  and  water  mingled  and 
mixed  together  in  a  most  dangerous  and  inextricable 
chaos,  which  is  penetrable  only  to  the  very  few  who 
know  the  secret  of  the  treacherous  little  paths  that  twist 
and  turn  like  snakes  among  the  bottomless  quagmire. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  road  the  pale  sands  of  the 
gently  sloping  beach  met  the  ripples  of  a  singularly  quiet 
tide,  gray  as  the  heaven  above  it,  save  where  the  diffused 
light  was  reflected  in  shaded  silver  tints,  melting  and  re- 
appearing with  every  deep,  silent  breath  of  the  sea.  The 
Vende'en  coast  can  be  wild  enough,  and  its  storms  are 
almost — not  quite — as  celebrated  as  the  Breton  ones, 
but  to-day  it  was  all  hopelessly  sad  and  dreary;  even  the 
few  fishing-boats  in  the  offing  looked  motionless,  their 
dark  hulls  and  tawny  sails  seeming  to  rise  and  fall  slowly 
with  the  throbbing  of  the  giant  pulse  beneath  them, 
without  advancing  a  cable's  length  in  any  direction. 

322 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

By  the  time  they  reached  Yffiniac  the  whole  sky  had 
become  a  lowering  arch  of  deluge,  pools  of  rain  had  turned 
the  paddocks  into  lagoons,  and  many  of  the  pretty  flower- 
beds in  the  lower  portions  of  the  park  were  half  sub- 
merged. All  that  night  and  the  next  day  rain  beat  re- 
lentlessly at  the  castle  windows,  and  as  at  four  in  the 
afternoon  Ghislain  and  Loic  were  disconsolately  watching 
the  drenched  landscape  a  telegram  was  brought  in  for  the 
former. 

"Oh,  Loic,"  he  exclaimed,  after  rapidly  glancing  at 
it,  "my  uncle  has  had  a  stroke  of  apoplexy,  and  the  Duke 
telegraphs  that  I  must  come  at  once."  His  sun-tanned, 
jolly  face  had  grown  rigid,  and  it  was  only  after  a  few 
minutes  that  he  continued,  in  a  changed  voice:  "Can  you 
stay  here  until  you  hear  from  me,  or  I  come  back?  I 
wish  you  could." 

"Of  course  I  will,  my  dear  fellow.  You  can  rely  im- 
plicitly upon  me,"  Loic  replied,  simply,  and  the  two 
turned  from  each  other  without  further  words,  too  much 
upset  to  speak  of  ordinary  subjects  and  hardly  daring 
to  mention  the  one  all -import  ant  one,  until  the  brougham 
drove  up  to  the  door  and  Ghislain  hurriedly  started  for 
the  nearest  railroad  station. 

Left  alone,  Loic  was  at  liberty  to  give  free  rein  to  his 
annoyance  at  the  present  condition  of  his  own  affairs, 
thrown  into  a  yet  gloomier  light  by  his  anxiety  concern- 
ing the  Marquis  d'Yffiniac,  of  whom  he  had  grown  very 
fond.  He  sat  for  a  long  time  in  the  library  before  a  roar- 
ing fire,  his  legs  stretched  out  before  him,  a  cigarette  be- 
tween his  lips,  wishing  with  all  his  might  that  the  world 
had  but  one  neck,  so  that  he  could  cut  through  it  at  one 
stroke! 

He  was  restless  and  still  greatly  unsettled  as,  later  on, 
he  paced  the  flower- filled  gallery  running  along  the  whole 

323 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

length  of  the  second  floor  before  dressing  for  dinner. 
There  was  something  decidedly  amiss  and  jangling  in  his 
life,  and  he  felt  so  wretchedly  lonely  that  to  distract  his 
depressing  thoughts  he  began  to  draw  pictures  in  his  mind 
of  how  Gynette  would  look  as  Mistress  of  Kergoat.  The 
place  was  made  for  her  and  she  for  the  place,  he  mused. 
Why,  then,  should  this  devil  of  pride  and  contrariness 
which  was  in  him  keep  her  away  from  it  ?  Or  was  it  pride 
and  contrariness  —  and  not  rather  merely  because  she 
was  an  entirely  new,  unsought,  self-suggested  idea  that 
he  was  as  yet  unaccustomed  to  contemplate?  A  lovely 
idea,  to  be  sure,  a  most  winsome  and  attractive  idea — 
here  he  almost  lost  himself  in  a  throng  of  rosy  visions, 
but,  rousing  at  length  from  his  reveries,  and  looking 
out  upon  the  rolling  woods  and  rain-smeared  park  of 
Yffiniac,  he  suddenly  laughed  a  weary,  bitter  little  laugh 
which  echoed  strangely  beneath  the  glass  dome  of  the 
gallery.  Just  at  that  minute,  somehow,  it  was  difficult 
to  come  to  a  decision. 

Presently  his  servant  brought  him  his  letters — letters 
came  to  Yffiniac  twice  a  day,  fetched  by  a  groom  on 
horseback  from  the  little  post-office  four  miles  up  the 
coast — and,  curiously  enough,  the  first  missive  he  noticed 
on  the  tray  was  from  Gynette.  It  ran  as  follows: 

"It  is  not  surprising,"  she  said,  without  preliminary  or  prefix, 
"that  you  should  have  refrained  from  accepting  the  offer  of  my 
whole  life — of  my  whole  love!  What  is  more  so  is  that  you 
should  not  have  had  the  loyalty  to  tell  me  your  real  reasons  for 
so  doing.  This  morning  I  received  a  letter  from  your  mother, 
who,  in  the  name  of  our  old  friendship,  implores  me  to  use  my 
influence — note  the  humor  of  it  all — in  order  to  make  you  re- 
nounce the  woman  with  whom  you  are,  it  appears,  so  madly  in- 
fatuated. The  letter  is  heart-breaking.  Shortly  afterwards  I  was 
honored  by  the  visit  of  your  mother's  '  homme  d'affaires,'  a  rather 
sinister  personage  called  Georges  Rivier.  He  insisted  upon  tell- 
ing me  all  the  ins  and  outs  of  your  little  romance,  the  scenes  you 

324 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

made  your  mother,  the  way  in  which  you  followed  this  woman 
here,  and  many  other  details  which  I  entreated  him  to  spare  me, 
but  he  argued  that  Madame  de  Kergoat  was  crazed  with  grief 
and  had  sent  him  to  implore  my  aid.  That  I  will  not  give!  And, 
moreover,  no  words  of  mine  would  weigh  in  the  balance,  as  I 
but  too  well  know,  were  I  inclined  to  utter  them.  I  am  justly 
punished  for  having  stooped  to  offer  myself  to  you — like  that 
other  whom  you  preferred  to  me  all  along.  Only  two  days  ago  I 
gave  you  the  chance  of  telling  me  the  truth,  and  you  had  not  the 
ordinary  decency  to  do  so.  I  was  well  aware  that  you  were 
flighty,  and  somewhat  unreliable  where  women  are  concerned; 
but  how  could  I  conceive  such  treachery  ?  You  pretended  loyalty 
and  affection;  you  tacitly  promised  to  consider  what  I  had  told 
you,  and  the  way  you  keep  this  promise  is  to  degrade  me  in  my 
own  esteem  and  in  that  of  my  peers.  Your  mother  has  certainly 
confided  in  others,  for  already  I  gather  from  hints  dropped 
and  allusions  levelled  at  me,  whom  many  thought — as  I,  alas! 
almost  thought  myself  —  your  fiancee,  that  your  unfragrant 
secret  is  public  property.  I  will  never  pardon  you  this!  I  will 
never  speak  to  you  again  if  I  can  help  it,  and  I  blush  to  remember 
how  passionately  I  have  loved  you.  You  would  only  distress 
me  uselessly  in  opening  afresh  a  subject  which  I  devoutly  trust  is 
closed  forever  between  us.  Besides  which,  I  am  leaving  La- 
Roche-Sur-Yon  to-night  for  destinations  unknown,  so  it  would 
be  lost  time  to  write  or  to  come — I  would  not  believe  a  word  of 
justification  or  explanation.  I  think  that  I  never  hated  any- 
thing as  I  hate  you  I  GYNETTE. 

"  P.S. — Poor  Gaidik! — she  is  lucky  to  be  so  far  away;  and  to  be 
spared  the  shame  I  endure." 

Loic  grew  ashy  white  as  he  read  this  savage  denuncia- 
tion, with  its  truly  feminine  Parthian  arrow  at  the  end. 
The  faint  jessamine  perfume  of  the  paper  upon  which  it 
was  written  turned  him  a  little  sick;  then,  suddenly,  he 
began  to  laugh  immoderately,  to  exhaustion,  till  the  tears 
came  in  his  eyes  and  his  sides  positively  ached,  a  fresh 
spasm  seizing  him  with  every  glance  at  the  crumpled 
letter  lying  at  his  feet. 

"That's  the  bouquet!"  he  at  last  said,  aloud,  in  quiver- 
ing tones.  "There  cannot  be  anything  funnier  than 

325 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

this,"  and  again  he  relapsed  into  fits  of  laughter  which, 
in  a  being  less  strong  of  nerve  might  have  soon  become 
closely  related  to  hysterics. 

His  was  a  strangely  calm,  impassive  face,  however, 
when  an  hour  later  he  took  his  place  in  solitary  grandeur 
at  his  friend's  deserted  dinner-table.  The  solitude  was  a 
relief  now,  for  it  would  have  been  almost  impossible  to 
conceal  his  trouble  from  Ghislain's  vigilant  eye.  Hitherto 
he  had  taken  life  as  a  light  sort  of  business,  governed 
mostly  by  his  fancy  of  the  moment,  but  now  suddenly  it 
had  assumed  a  very  different  aspect,  and  the  directing 
power  seemed  so  completely  taken  out  of  his  hands  that 
he  was  entirely  confused  and  bewildered.  After  a  rapid 
pretence  at  eating  what  was  set  before  him,  he  rose,  told 
the  butler  to  serve  coffee  in  the  hall,  and  ensconced  him- 
self in  a  deep  arm-chair  near  the  fire. 

The  hall  at  Yffiniac  opened  straight  upon  the  south 
terrace,  and  was  an  ideal  place  for  reveries,  with  its  huge 
hearth  upon  which  it  would  have  been  sacrilege  to  burn 
anything  but  whole  tree-trunks,  its  Persian  rugs  as  thick 
as  moss  and  with  a  bloom  on  them  like  that  of  a  ripe 
plum,  its  immense  arm-chairs  and  settees,  and  its  general 
air  of  perfect  and  lounging  comfort. 

On  that  eventful  evening  its  luxurious  cosiness  was 
especially  welcome  and  soothing,  for  the  weather  had 
grown  worse  with  the  coming  of  the  night,  and  every  now 
and  then  the  wind,  which  had  been  rising  and  falling  and 
rising  again  all  day,  was  rattling  the  casements  as  with 
furious  unseen  hands,  and  blew  down  the  gigantic  chimney 
like  a  choir  of  weirdly  wailing  ghosts. 

Rocked  by  this  whistling  symphony,  Loic  curled  him- 
self more  closely  in  his  chair,  and  again  began  to  think 
over  the  same  weary  round.  Which  of  all  this  series  of 
calamities  that  frad  lately  fallen  upon  him  was  due  to 

326 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

his  fault?  Certainly  he  had  been  foolish  ever  to  set  his 
foot  in  the  parjumerie  queened  over  by  Madame  Billot; 
but  how  could  he  have  foreseen  what  this  slight  impru- 
dence would  bring  about?  How,  also,  could  he  have 
reckoned  with  his  mother's  perversity,  Gynette's  cruel 
credulousness,  Rivier's  and  Malghorn's  interference?  He 
found  himself  shrugging  his  shoulders  contemptuously 
at  the  thought  of  all  the  different  factors  which  had  con- 
spired against  him.  It  mattered  not,  of  course  now,  what 
had  led  to  his  present  eminently  unenviable  situation, 
since  the  situation  existed,  but  he  was  bitterly  incensed 
against  the  three  women  who  had  conjured  it  up — his 
mother,  Gynette,  and  the  widow  Billot. 

"Oh,  my  little  Gaidik!  Why  aren't  you  here?"  he 
muttered.  "You  alone  could  disentangle  this  sorry 
skein  for  me!"  and  with  a  blessing  and  a  curse  fighting  on 
his  lips  he  momentarily  gave  up  the  attempt  to  puzzle 
out  his  troubles,  and,  lying  back  still  more  deeply  in  his 
chair,  looked  vacantly  at  the  fire.  He  felt  strangely  tired, 
and  must  have  dropped  into  a  short  doze;  for,  in  the 
curious,  unformulated  fashion  of  dreams,  he  suddenly 
thought  that  Gaidik  had  softly  glided  into  the  room  and 
was  sitting  opposite  to  him.  As  clearly  as  clearly  could 
be  he  saw  her.  She  had  not  changed  during  their  separa- 
tion, and  he  gazed  at  her,  asking  himself,  in  a  singular, 
semilucid  fashion,  whether  she  was  not  really  there,  but 
felt  afraid  to  move  for  fear  of  setting  the  vision — if  vision 
it  were — to  flight.  Yes,  it  must  be  she,  indeed.  Here 
was  the  graceful  little  figure,  so  perfect  in  its  outlines,  here 
the  exquisite  oval  of  the  face,  the  deep-set,  black-lashed 
eyes,  dark  gray  in  serious  moments,  lustrous  and  spark- 
ling like  aquamarines  when  a  smile  shone  through  them, 
the  small,  proudly  curved  mouth,  the  obstinate  chin,  the 
rippling  masses  of  auburn  hair,  dusky  as  ripe  chestnuts 

327 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

in  the  shadow,  gleaming  like  pink  copper  where  the  fire- 
light played  on  it — nay,  he  could  even  see  the  faint,  deli- 
cate amber  of  the  colorless  complexion  which  toned  in  so 
uniquely  with  the  tints  of  eyes  and  hair — surely  it  was 
she!  Should  he  get  up  and  clasp  her  close  in  his  arms, 
pillow  his  weary  head  on  her  lap,  and  tell  her  all  his  woes  ? 
He  made  an  unconscious  movement  towards  her,  but  fell 
back,  wondering,  in  a  frightened  way,  why  she  was  dressed 
all  in  black,  why  she  looked  so  sorrowful  and  held  out  her 
tiny  hands  so  imploringly  towards  him. 

All  at  once  he  became  broad  and  staring  awake;  his 
eye  might  have  really  seen  something  or  his  ear  uncon- 
sciously heard  a  voice,  for  the  sound  of  his  name  seemed 
to  linger  on  the  warm  air  of  the  room.  "Loic,  please 
don't,  Loic!"  He  sat  bolt  upright,  to  find,  alas,  the  oppo- 
site chair  untenanted ;  but  an  agonized  echo  of  his  name 
was  certainly  tossing  on  the  air  outside.  This  time,  how- 
ever, it  was  not  "Loic"  that  he  heard,  but  "Monsieur  de 
Kergoat,  Monsieur  de  Kergoat,  etes  vous  la!"  Just  at 
that  moment  there  was  a  lull  in  the  increasing  violence 
of  the  gale,  and  in  the  momentary  stillness  the  rapid 
patter  of  hurrying  feet  ascended  the  steps  of  the  terrace. 

With  a  sense  of  amazement  almost  painful  in  its  in- 
tensity, he  sprang  to  the  door  and  flung  it  open,  letting 
in  a  great  buffet  of  rain-soaked  wind  and  a  dripping  little 
figure  that  rushed  into  his  arms,  crying  out  in  terror: 
"Save  me!  Hide  me!  They  are  after  me!  Save  me, 
Monsieur  le  Marquis!" 


XVI 

Ho!  rulers  all,  who  would  featly  deal 
And  frame  all  things  to  your  hearts'  desire, 

The  willow  wand  ye  may  cleave  with  steel, 
But  iron  is  wooed  with  fire! 

Or  e'er  ye  mount  for  the  flying  course 
Consider  well  of  your  untried  steed, 

For  low-bred  cattle  ye  break  with  force, 
But  the  Arab  no  bit  will  heed. 

Armed,  like  the  rose  with  her  scent  and  thorn, 
Ye  may  laugh  at  doubts  and  corroding  fears, 

For  the  will  that's  proof  unto  rage  and  scorn 
By  weakness  is  won,  and  tears. 

M.  M. 

GENTLY  but  firmly  Loic  unclasped  the  clinging  arms 
of  the  frenzied  girl  and  drew  her  quickly  into  the  hall, 
but  suddenly  he  felt  the  life  going  from  the  hand  he  held 
and  was  just  in  time  to  catch  her  as  she  fell  forward  un- 
conscious and  helpless.  It  took  him  a  second  or  so  to 
realize  what  had  happened  —  and  no  wonder — then  he 
laid  her  at  full  length  on  a  divan  and  turned  to  go  in 
search  of  water — which  element  he  supposed  to  be  the 
necessary  adjunct  of  every  fainting-fit — but  a  glance  at 
her  already  half-drowned  condition  made  him  modify 
this  plan,  and,  taking  from  the  tray  on  which  his  coffee 
had  been  served  his  untouched  glass  of  liqueur-brandy, 
he  knelt  on  one  knee,  slid  an  arm  under  his  patient's  head, 
and  succeeded,  more  or  less  completely,  in  forcing  part  of 
its  contents  down  her  throat,  after  which  he  drew  her  wet 
••  3*9 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

cloak  from  around  her,  took  off  her  battered  hat,  and  set 
to  chafe  her  icy  hands. 

A  man  is  generally  not  seen  to  advantage  when  admin- 
istering to  an  unconscious  woman ;  but  Loic  was  not  apt 
to  be  either  clumsy  or  awkward  under  any  circumstances, 
and  he  managed  to  acquit  himself  of  his  task  with  edify- 
ing deftness;  so  much  so,  indeed,  that  his  efforts  soon  met 
with  their  due  reward,  for  the  girl  opened  her  eyes  just  in 
time  to  save  herself  from  a  second  dose  of  brandy,  and 
stared  wildly  about  her. 

"  You  are  better  now,  Mademoiselle  Rose,  are  you  not  ?" 
Loic  asked,  encouragingly,  and  in  a  cheerful  tone,  which 
seemed  to  indicate  that  her  surprising  arrival  and  the 
extraordinary  words  she  had  pronounced  before  fainting 
were  to  be  classed  among  quite  ordinary  and  natural 
matters.  "  Now  drink  that,"  he  continued,  peremptorily, 
holding  forth  the  remainder  of  the  cordial.  He  divined, 
and  correctly  so,  that  the  girl  was  of  those  who  feel  more 
comfortable  when  domineered  over  and  constrained  to 
obey,  for  she  complied  without  a  murmur,  and  immedi- 
ately a  reawakening  of  intelligence  dawned  in  her  eyes. 
Loic  was  watching  her  in  silence ;  he  confidently  expected 
some  further  hysterical  display  —  being  versed  in  the 
ways  of  women — but  she  was  evidently  still  too  dazed  to 
rouse  herself  from  her  torpor,  and  sat  on  the  divan  with 
both  arms  hanging  limply  at  her  side,  the  soft  light  from 
a  neighboring  lamp  gleaming  upon  her  wet,  dishevelled 
hair,  and  defining  her  white  face  against  the  dark  tapes- 
tries beyond,  looking  intensely  wretched  and  taking  ab- 
solutely no  notice  of  him. 

"Mademoiselle  Rose,"  he  said  at  last,  speaking  slowly, 
as  one  speaks  to  a  child — "  Mademoiselle  Rose,  won't  you 
tell  me  now  what  has  happened  to  you?" 

The  girl  looked  up  with  eyes  dilated  and  vague  at  first, 

330 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

but  gradually  their  expression  changed  to  extreme  ter- 
ror, and  suddenly,  with  a  gurgling  moan,  she  threw 
herself  at  his  feet,  collapsing  in  a  heap  like  a  broken 
doll. 

"  What  on  earth  can  they  have  done  to  her  ?"  Loic  asked 
himself,  as  he  raised  her  and  placed  the  drooping,  trem- 
bling form  in  one  of  the  broad  arm-chairs  on  the  hearth- 
corner.  He  was  too  kind-hearted  and  generous  not  to  be 
moved  by  the  sight  of  such  heart-broken  misery  and  fear, 
but  his  pity  was  mixed  with  unconscious  irritation,  and 
it  was  almost  severely  that  he  said: 

"  You  must  try  and  pull  yourself  together,  Mademoiselle 
Rose.  At  any  moment  a  servant  may  come  in  and  your 
presence  be  discovered,  so  you  see  that  we  have  no  time 
to  lose  if  I  am  to  help  you  out  of  your  trouble,  whatever 
it  is?"  She  was  sobbing  now  in  a  long-drawn,  piteous 
sort  of  way,  but  after  a  little  she  checked  herself,  looked 
up  at  him,  and  tried  to  rise.  With  a  gesture  that  was 
almost  a  command  he  restrained  her,  and  continued,  in 
the  same  grave  tone: 

"You  must  be  aware  that  here  I  am  not  in  my  own 
house,  and  that,  apart  from  a  thousand  other  reasons, 
this  one  would  be  sufficient  to  prevent  my  offering  you 
hospitality.  Tell  me  why  you  have  run  away  from  your 
home,  and  especially  why  you  have  come  to  me." 

"You  will  think  me  mad  beyond  all  pardon  if  I  tell 
you,"  she  whispered  between  her  sobs. 

"No,"  he  answered  her,  "I  will  probably  think  you 
merely  human." 

She  did  not  quite  understand ;  but  the  hot  blood  surged 
into  her  face  to  the  very  roots  of  her  hair,  and  she  sank 
her  head  between  her  shoulders. 

"I  came,"  she  faltered  at  last,  "because  they  made 
my  life  a  burden— on  your  account — because  they  beat 

331 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

me  and  called  me  names,  and  were  going  to  imprison  me 
in  my  grandmother's  house  beyond  the  marshes." 

"On  my  account?"  Loic  asked,  in  amazement.  "My 
poor  girl,  how  can  that  be?  I  never  spoke  to  you  or 
even  to  your  mother  more  than  six  times  in  my  whole 
life.  You  must  be  dreaming." 

"I  know! — I  know,"  she  went  on,  in  the  same  trem- 
bling whisper.  "I  have  no  right  to  expect  that  you 
should  help  me — but  you — you  sent  the  violets — and 
even  before  that  they  had  noticed — " 

"Noticed  what?"  he  asked,  impatiently,  almost  rough- 
ly, for  the  mention  of  those  luckless  violets  was  really 
more  than  he  could  stand  just  then. 

"  That  I  care — for  you,"  she  said,  so  low  that  he  but  just 
caught  the  words. 

"Mademoiselle  Rose,"  he  said,  deeply  annoyed,  "I  am 
afraid  that  you  are  a  very  romantic  young  woman.  You 
have  done  a  very  imprudent  and  very  foolish  thing.  Yet 
it  may  not  be  too  late  to  repair  it.  I  will,  if  you  permit 
me,  take  you  back  at  once  to  La-Roche-Sur-Yon  and 
speak  to  your  mother  in  such  a  fashion  that  she  will  for- 
give your — escapade,  promise  to  treat  you  more  kindly, 
and  let  by-gones  be  by-gones.  I  will  demonstrate  to  her 
how  little  she  has  to  fear  from  me,  and  if  she  is  a  rea- 
sonable woman  she  will  be  the  first  to  try  and  avert  a 
scandal." 

His  words  sounded  harsh,  almost  cruel,  in  his  own 
ears,  but  he  felt  that  if  he  yielded  one  iota  to  her  hysterical 
sentimentality  he  was  lost.  Moreover,  he  could  not 
bring  himself  to  believe  that  she  really  loved  him,  thanks 
to  his  utter  lack  of  vanity — Loic,  like  the  ornithorhyn- 
chus,  was  of  a  species  peculiar  and  apart,  a  handsome 
and  captivating  man  who  had  no  fatuity  in  his  composi- 
tion— and  he  stared  angrily  for  a  moment  at  the  girl's 

332 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

stooping  form.  How  well,  he  thought,  did  he  know  that 
sort  of  woman!  How  familiar  to  him  was  every  little 
trick  of  speech,  of  pose,  of  glance!  A  strange  sense  of 
monotony  came  over  him  who  had  been  so  steadily 
courted  by  women ;  the  very  words,  "  I  care  for  you,"  still 
ringing  in  his  ears,  were  such  as  had  been  used  to  him 
on  a  dozen  occasions — aye,  by  that  girl's  mother  herself — 
even  by —  He  stamped  his  foot.  Was  he  going  to 
compare  Gynette  to  those  others  ?  Rose,  startled  by  the 
gesture,  shuddered  nervously. 

"Oh,  Monsieur  le  Marquis,"  she  pleaded,  "don't  be 
angry!  Please,  please  listen  to  me;  have  patience  for 
just  a  minute  longer!" 

Loic  could  have  laughed  aloud.  "Monsieur  le  Mar- 
quis." Truly  the  manie  des  grandeurs  was  hereditary 
in  the  Billot  family!  She  reminded  him  of  her  grandilo- 
quent mamma;  but  so  imploringly  did  she  gaze  at  him 
that  he  said,  more  gently:  "I  am  listening,  but,  for  God's 
sake,  be  brief.  Every  moment  we  waste  here  is  an  addi- 
tional danger  to  you." 

Thus  admonished,  she  did  her  best  to  master  herself, 
although  there  was  a  suspicious  catch  in  her  voice  and 
tears  still  ran  from  her  wide,  light-colored  eyes  as  she 
began  to  speak,  while  he  mechanically  fingered  an  un- 
lighted  cigarette. 

"I  cannot  accept  your  offer,  Monsieur  le  Marquis,"  she 
said,  "because  I  am  simply  unable  to  do  so.  If  I  were 
to  go  back  home  now  they  would  lock  me  up  in  a  re- 
formatory— an  awful  sort  of  place  for — for  bad  women. 
I  know  them,  and  that  is  just  what  they  would  do.  They 
did  all  they  could  to  prevent  my  ever  seeing  you  when 
you  came  to  the  shop,  and  I  was  really  a  prisoner,  always 
watched  by  one  of  them,  either  my  mother  or  my  uncle, 
during  the  last  days  of  your  stay  at  Monsieur  le  Marquis 

333 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

d'Yffiniac's,  and  they  swore  that  if  I  ever  attempted  to 
see  you  they  would  put  me  away  in — that  place." 

The  whole  scene  still  seemed  so  utterly  unreal  to  Loic 
that  he  could  scarcely  believe  he  was  hearing  aright. 
Violently  he  threw  the  unlighted  cigarette  into  the  fire,  and, 
bending  to  look  searchingly  at  her,  exclaimed,  incredu- 
lously, "Are  you  sure  that  you  are  not  exaggerating?" 

"No,  Monsieur  le  Marquis,  I  am  telling  you  the  real 
truth;  and  what  is  true,  also,  is  that  if  you  do  take  me 
back  I  shall  kill  myself.  I  am  not  saying  this  to  force 
your  pity,  but  because  I  am  determined  to  do  it."  The 
last  words  were  wrung  from  her  like  water  from  a  twisted 
cloth.  It  was  certainly  the  truth  which  she  spoke,  and 
Loic  looked  at  her  aghast. 

"You  are  talking  nonsense,"  he  said,  losing  all  patience; 
but  she  did  not  heed  him  at  all  and  continued,  passion- 
ately: "You  do  not  know  them  as  I  do,  Monsieur  le 
Marquis.  I  have  been  their  drudge  and  their  victim  for 
years,  and  I  am  sick  of  it.  What  is  there  for  me  to  live 
for?  No,  no!  I  will  kill  myself,  that  I  promise  you. 
I  swear  it  on  the  Cross!  If  they  catch  me — and  they 
may  be  after  me  already — I'll  kill  myself  here  before  your 
eyes.  So,  for  God's  sake,  don't  cast  me  away!  If  you 
do,  you'll  be  the  cause  of  my  death." 

Loic  was  absolutely  nonplussed.  Every  fibre  of  his 
being  cried  aloud  to  him  that  a  great  danger  hung  sus- 
pended over  him,  imminent  to  fall,  so  long  as  that  girl 
remained  there;  but  what  could  he  do?  He  could  not 
throw  her  out  into  the  storm  and  the  night ;  he  could  not 
give  her  his  protection ;  he  had  no  place  where  he  could 
safely  take  her.  What  was  he  to  do  ? 

"There  is  no  need  for  tragedy,"  he  said  at  length;  "the 
situation  is  sufficiently  grave  without  it.  You  must 
know  that  to  remain  even  one  night  under  this  roof 

334 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

with  me  ruins  you.  Tell  me  of  some  place  where  I  can 
take  you,  and  I  will  give  you  all  the  money  you  need  to 
live  wherever  you  like,  but  I  cannot  keep  you  with  me. 
That  is  impossible.  Heaven  knows  what  it  all  means! 
I  have  not  brought  this  trouble  upon  you;  I  hardly 
know  you.  And  yet  you  may  be  telling  the  truth  when 
you  say  that  you  are  in  danger.  Speak;  explain  what 
you  want,  and  I'll  do  my  best." 

The  storm  was  still  raging  and  shrieking  outside;  but 
in  one  of  the  periodical  brief  pauses  of  the  wind  that 
followed  Loic's  last  question  a  fuller,  rounder  note  was 
suddenly  heard  overscoring  the  loud  rush  of  the  rain  in 
rapid  crescendo;  the  soaked  gravel  of  the  avenue  was 
grating  and  splashing  beneath  swift  wheels  and  the  rapid 
trot  of  a  pair  of  horses.  Next  moment  they  would  be  at 
the  door,  and  the  two  occupants  of  the  hall  looked  at 
each  other  in  dismay. 

"Here  they  come  I"  Rose  exclaimed,  starting  to  her 
feet.  "Oh,  what  shall  I  do?  What  shall  I  do?" 

"Hush!"  Loic  whispered.  "Come  here!"  and  with  the 
coolness  which  always  stood  him  in  such  good  stead  when 
prompt  resolution  was  needed,  he  snatched  the  girl's  wet 
cloak  and  hat  from  the  floor,  seized  her  by  the  shoulder, 
and,  lifting  a  width  of  the  tapestry  from  the  wall  to  the 
left  of  the  hearth,  he  touched  the  centre  of  an  elaborately 
carved  lotus-flower  in  the  wainscoting,  and  the  whole 
panel  swung  inward,  revealing  a  narrow  passage  within 
the  thickness  of  the  masonry — the  one,  in  fact,  which 
Ghislain  had  shown  him  with  such  glee  on  the  night  of 
his  arrival  at  Yffiniac.  Into  it  he  thrust  the  trembling 
girl  and  her  belongings,  saying,  in  a  tone  admitting  of  no 
resistance,  but  much  more  kindly  than  he  had  as  yet  used 
to  her:  "Don't  be  afraid,  and  don't  move  till  I  come  for 
you.  There  is  a  bench  right  here ;  sit  down  and  keep  quiet!" 

335 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

Swiftly  he  secured  the  panel,  dropped  the  tapestry  over 
it,  and,  returning  to  the  fire,  sat  down,  stretched  himself 
out  at  full  length,  and  closed  his  eyes  as  if  overcome  by 
sleep.  Nor  was  he  a  minute  too  soon ;  for  hardly  had  he 
thus  installed  himself  when  a  footman  tiptoed  into  the 
room,  and,  after  decorously  clearing  his  throat  once  or 
twice,  and  finally  coughing  gently  behind  his  hand  to 
awaken  him,  after  the  approved  and  stagey  fashion  of  his 
kind,  ventured  to  state  that  a  Person  stood  without  de- 
manding admittance  on  business  suffering  no  delay. 

"Eh!  What?"  quoth  Loic,  rubbing  his  eyes  and 
yawning  in  a  manner  to  dislocate  his  jaw.  "You  must 
be  mad!  At  this  hour,  and  in  this  weather?  Tell  him 
that  Monsieur  le  Comte  is  absent." 

The  footman  explained  that  it  was  not  Monsieur  le 
Comte,  but  Monsieur  le  Marquis  whom  the  person  craved 
to  see;  that  he  personally  had  attempted  to  dismiss  him, 
but  that  he  had,  much  to  his  regret,  been  unsuccessful. 
What  did  Monsieur  le  Marquis  wish  done  about  it? 

Monsieur  le  Marquis  consented,  after  some  further  par- 
ley, and  with  extremely  bad  grace,  to  find  out  for  himself 
what  the  devil  this  intruder  wanted,  and  two  minutes 
later  the  little  hair-dresser  of  the  once  Place  Napoleon  was 
ushered  in. 

Loic  was  one  of  those  unfortunate  people  whose  sense 
of  humor  is  irrepressible,  striking  often  at  the  worst 
possible  moment,  and  the  incongruities  of  the  situation 
suddenly  forced  themselves  upon  him  so  powerfully  that 
he  had  all  he  could  do  not  to  burst  out  laughing.  Mas- 
tering this  untimely  mirth,  however,  by  a  truly  heroic 
effort,  he  raised  himself  slowly  on  one  elbow,  and,  half 
closing  his  eyes,  as  though  better  to  absorb  the  surprising 
spectacle  before  him,  he  said,  with  admirably  assumed 
incredulity : 

336 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

"What!  Monsieur  Lierre!"  for  this  was  really  the  per- 
fumer's name,  and  with  poetical  apropos  he  had  called 
his  shop  after  himself.  "  Au  berceau  de  Lierre  —  can  I 
believe  my  eyes  ?  Is  it  really  myself  whom  you  wish  to 
honor  with  a  visit?" 

It  may  have  been  that  the  man  detected  the  shade  of 
irony  in  the  formality  of  the  question,  for  he  paused  half- 
way across  the  room  with  nervous  hesitation,  and  his 
voice  shook  as  he  replied,  obsequiously,  "I  entreat  you 
to  excuse  my  indiscretion,  Monsieur  le  Marquis,  but  I  am 
hard  pressed,  indeed,  and  this  alone  induced  me  to  in- 
trude upon  you." 

He  certainly  looked  hard  pressed,  for  he  actually 
panted  as  he  spoke,  and  the  warmth  of  the  room,  coaxing 
the  dampness  from  his  sodden  clothes,  surrounded  him 
with  a  slight  vapor  like  that  of  a  newly  washed  cloth 
emerging  from  the  wringer.  Never  had  anybody  looked 
more  mean  and  paltry  than  did  this  artist  of  the  comb 
and  brtfsh,  with  his  pale-yellow  hair  and  scraggy  beard, 
his  sallow  face,  his  servile  manners,  and  under-sized, 
narrow-chested  form. 

"I  am  here,"  he  continued,  evidently  taking  Loic's 
silence  for  acquiescence,  "to  ask — a — a  strange — ah — 
question  of  you,  Monsieur  le  Marquis." 

"I  will  endeavor  to  answer  it,"  Loic  said,  carelessly, 
pointing  to  a  chair ; "  but  won't  you  sit  down, my  good  Sir?" 

No.  Monsieur  Lierre  would  not  sit  down,  his  clothes 
were,  alas,  very  wet,  and,  moreover,  his  time  was  short. 

Again  L6ic  waited  in  the  same  extremely  unsympa- 
thetic silence  for  further  information,  which  seemed  diffi- 
cult to  come  by. 

"You  know  my  niece  Rose,  Monsieur  le  Marquis?"  the 
little  man  at  length  blurted  out  after  some  moments  of 
fidgeting  embarrassment. 

337 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

"I  do.     Is  that  your  strange  question?" 

"She  has  run  away,  Monsieur  le  Marquis,  and  I  have 
cause  to  think  that  she  is  in  this  neighborhood.  Have 
you — have  you — "  Here  he  came  to  a  dead  stop;  really 
his  question  was  a  difficult  one  to  formulate,  and  Monsieur 
le  Marquis,  casting  lazy  glances  alternately  up  at  the  ceiling 
and  down  towards  his  own  exquisitely  shod  feet,  indica- 
tive of  no  curiosity  whatever  with  regard  to  Mademoiselle 
Rose's  fate,  gave  him  but  poor  encouragement  to  proceed. 

Still,  after  humming  and  hawing  for  a  full  minute,  the 
little  hair-dresser  took  courage,  and,  stepping  closer  to 
Loic,  said  rapidly,  as  if  eager  that  the  murder  should  be 
out  as  speedily  as  possible: 

"I  am  here  to-night  because  we  think  that  she  has 
fled  to  demand  your  protection;  she  is  a  crazy  sort  of 
girl,  is  Rose,  and  capable  of  anything — yes,  Monsieur  le 
Marquis,  of  anything  —  and,  pardon  me  for  saying  so 
frankly,  she  has  a  romantic  admiration  for  Monsieur — 
indeed,  her  mother  and  I  noticed  from  the  first  the  ardent 
glances  which  she  dared  to  cast  upon  Monsieur;  we 
reproved  her  again  and  again,  but  quite  without  avail; 
and  now,  after  making  us  a  scene  of  considerable  violence, 
she  has  fled,  as  I  have  just  had  the  honor  of  mentioning — 
fled  with  a  threat  on  her  lips  to  the  effect  that  you — you, 
Monsieur  le  Marquis — would  protect  her  and  place  her  out 
of  our  reach!  Surely  I  am  justified  in  calling  upon  you, 
in  the  name  of  our  family  honor,  to  entreat  you  not  to 
uphold  her  in  her  criminal  waywardness  should  she  really 
appeal  to  you." 

"But,"  said  Loic,  with  a  mixture  of  his  native  Breton 
calmness  and  his  own  delicate  irony,  "would  it  not  be 
safer  to  wait  until  your  niece  has  claimed  my  protection 
before  assuming  so  dramatic  an  attitude?  First  catch 
your  hare,  my  good  Monsieur  Lierre,  you  know!" 

338 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

Evidently  this  irate  uncle  knew  nothing  positive,  Loic 
reflected,  and  so  he  began  to  enjoy  the  situation  after  a 
fashion.  The  two  men  looked  into  each  other's  eyes  in 
silence.  Loic  was  smiling,  but  Lierre  was  as  solemn  as 
an  owl. 

"Are  you  quite  alone,  Monsieur  le  Marquis?"  he  asked. 

"As  you  see,  Monsieur  Lierre — as  you  see,"  Loic  an- 
swered, quietly.  "  But  why  this  question  ?  Would  it  calm 
your  fears  to  search  the  house  for  your  vagrant  niece? 
As  far  as  I  am  concerned,  you  are  horribly  welcome  to 
do  so." 

"Oht  Monsieur  le  Marquis!" 

"Well,  then,  what  do  you  want?  It's  about  time  you 
should  explain  yourself.  Here  you  arrive  like  a  bomb, 
apparently  to  ask  me  whether  I  have  any  stray  damsels 
concealed  about  my  person,  and  it  seems  to  me  that  I 
have  humored  you  quite  long  enough.  Speak  out,  man, 
or  else  prosecute  your  investigations  elsewhere." 

Lierre  precipitately  retreated  a  step  or  two.  He  was 
very  frightened,  for  there  had  suddenly  leaped  to  Loic's 
gray  eyes  a  gleam  which  he  did  not  like. 

"I  assure  you,  Monsieur  le  Marquis,  that  I  meant  no 
disrespect,"  he  stammered;  "the  fact  is  that  I  must  have 
been  misled  by  deceptive  appearances.  I — I — I  beseech 
you  to  accept  my  humblest  apologies ;  moreover,  I  think  I 
know  now  where  she  must  be.  Alas,  Monsieiy  le  Mar- 
quis, she  is  a  sorry  specimen,  is  my  niece  Rose — I  say  it 
to  our  shame.  She  has  already  cost  us  much  distress; 
but  that  is  enough ;  she  will  not  be  indulged  any  further, 
you  can  trust  me  for  that." 

He  could  certainly  be  trusted  to  commit  any  sort  of 
villany,  if  his  present  expression  did  not  belie  him,  re- 
vealing, as  it  did,  a  finished  scoundrel  who  would  hesitate 
not  a  whit  to  perpetrate  any  cruelty  upon  a  defenceless 

339 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

woman.  Loic  felt  his  ears  getting  hot,  and  his  hands 
tingled  to  administer  to  him  the  thrashing  he  so  richly 
deserved,  but,  since  prudence  was  obviously  imperative, 
he  said,  carelessly: 

"  Indeed!  And  how  do  you  propose  to  curb  the  young 
lady's  evil  passions?" 

"  By  locking  her  up  safely  in  a  place  designed  expressly 
for  such  as  she,"  the  little  man  replied,  with  so  extrava- 
gant a  ferocity  that  for  a  moment  he  succeeded  in  looking 
positively  terrible.  "I'll  teach  her  to  behave,  Monsieur 
le  Marquis;  for  we  don't  tolerate  vice  in  our  family!" 

"  When  it  profits  you  nothing,"  was  on  the  tip  of  Loic's 
tongue,  but  he  still  had  sufficient  mastery  over  himself  to 
leave  the  words  unuttered,  and  merely  shrugged  his 
shoulders  with  a  short  laugh  which  had  the  effect  of  bring- 
ing the  interview  to  a  conclusion. 

"  I  am  indeed  grieved,  Monsieur  le  Marquis,"  the  visitor 
wheedled,  with  so  abrupt  a  reassumption  of  his  most  per- 
suasive shopman's  manner  that  Loic  looked  at  him  in 
astonishment,  "to  have  bored  you  with  this  miserable 
affair;  but  be  merciful,  and  allow  me  to  entreat  you  again 
— should  my  shameless  niece  ever  appeal  to  you — to  re- 
fuse to  see  her;  and,  oh,  Monsieur  le  Marquis,  send  her 
back  to  us  under  safe  escort,  so  that  we  may  treat  her  as 
she  deserves." 

This  last  clause  was  de  trop,  however,  and  Loic,  ris- 
ing to  his  full  height,  exclaimed,  his  eyes  fairly  blazing: 

"Eh!  go  to  the  devil,  you  and  your  infamous  speeches; 
you  don't  know  who  you  are  talking  to.  Monsieur  le 
Coiffeur,  and  that's  where  I  have  the  advantage  of  you; 
for,  of  all  the  infamous  scoundrels — "  But  the  terrified 
hair-dresser  had  taken  to  his  heels  and  was  retreating 
precipitately  down  the  long  corridor  on  the  way  to  his 
waiting  fiacre,  his  coat-tails  flying  horizontally  behind 

340 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

him,  his  eyes  almost  starting  from  his  sickly  countenance, 
for  he  really  fancied  that  he  felt  the  wind  of  a  well- 
earned  kick.  In  a  second  more  Loic  heard  the  rattle  of 
wheels  passing  down  the  avenue  at  a  gallop. 

"Dirty  little  ruffian!"  he  muttered.  "Pah!  the  air  is 
fairly  tainted  with  the  reek  of  his  presence!"  And  he 
turned  on  his  heel,  deep  disgust  still  curling  his  lips.  He 
felt,  nevertheless,  that  the  whole  situation  had  its  in- 
tensely funny  side;  from  an  observer's  point  of  view,  it 
would  have  been  excruciating,  but,  unfortunately,  he 
was  an  actor  in  the  comedy,  which  fact  sadly  altered  the 
humor  of  it.  With  an  impatient  shrug  of  the  shoulders 
he  marched  across  the  hall,  lifted  the  tapestry,  pressed 
back  the  panel,  and  released  Rose. 

Silently  he  signed  to  her  to  follow  him  up  a  narrow  side 
staircase  and  ushered  her  into  his  own  rooms,  where 
cheerful  wood  fires  burned  on  every  hearth  and  battled 
with  their  fitful  brilliancy  the  steady  glow  of  the  shaded 
lamps. 

"Was  it  my  uncle?"  the  girl  asked,  in  a  frightened 
whisper,  as  soon  as  Loic  had  closed  the  outward  doors  of 
the  suite  and  returned  to  her  side. 

"It  was,"  he  answered,  with  a  half  smile  which  slowly 
ebbed  away  as  he  looked  into  Rose's  livid,  haggard  face. 
"He  came — and  is  gone.  You  have  nothing  more  to 
fear  from  him — for  a  little  while  at  least." 

Rose  sat  heavily  down  on  a  small  ottoman.  Her  at- 
titudes were  uncouth  and  angular  and  had  been  a  per- 
petual source  of  contemptuous  reproof  from  her  gracefully 
serpentine  mother.  She  now  sat  with  both  hands  resting 
flat  on  her  knees,  staring  fixedly  at  the  leaping  blue  and 
pink  flames  of  the  drift-wood  logs. 

There  was  a  long  silence,  during  which  Loic  twice 
noisily  opened  and  shut  his  cigarette-case  in  order  to 

341 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

arouse  her  attention,  but  apparently  she  did  not  hear  the 
sound,  nor  did  she  seem  aware  of  her  surroundings. 

"Mademoiselle,"  he  said  at  last,  in  a  measured  voice 
which  seemed  to  his  auditor  to  emphasize  strangely  the 
quiet  of  the  room,  "before  we  go  any  further  I  wish  to 
ask  you  a  question.  You  are  at  liberty  to  answer  it  or 
not,  but  upon  your  reply  hangs  my  decision.  It  is  a  dif- 
ficult and  an  unpleasant  question  for  me  to  ask,  and  one  I 
would  willingly  avoid ;  but  will  you  answer  it  truthfully  ?" 

Rose  continued  to  stare  into  the  fire,  her  strange,  pale 
eyes  almost  fierce  in  their  concentration,  but  she  nodded 
affirmatively,  and  Loic,  fixing  his  searching  gaze  upon 
her,  said  slowly,  as  if  carefully  weighing  every  word: 

"Has  your  uncle  any  real  hold  upon  you,  or  are  his 
threats  empty  ones?  Understand,  I  am  asking  you 
whether — yes  or  no — you  have  in  the  past  done  something 
which  he  can  now  use  against  you — doubtless  you  know 
that  parents  have  practically  unlimited  powers  in  France, 
and  that  the  laws  concerning  women  are  severe.  If  he 
is  accusing  and  trying  to  persecute  a  blameless  girl,  his 
threats  do  not  count  for  anything ;  but  if  this  is  not  al- 
together the  case,  then  he  undoubtedly  can  carry  them 
into  immediate  execution.  Now  answer  me  frankly — and 
honorably." 

Rose  stole  one  swift  glance  at  him,  then  her  eyes  re- 
turned to  the  fixed  contemplation  of  the  little,  hissing 
flames.  With  singular  rapidity  she  had  grasped  Loic's 
meaning,  and  had  realized  that  the  truth,  or  part  of  the 
truth,  well  presented,  could  alone  save  her.  He  would 
not  —  that  she  instinctively  felt  —  aid  a  hitherto  pure- 
lived  maiden  to  escape  the  pursuits  of  her  family,  be  that 
family  ever  so  uncongenial  or  even  cruel.  He  might 
espouse  her  cause,  but  that,  too,  was  not  certain,  whereas 
if  she  let  him  see  how  matters  really  stood — 

34* 


THE    TRIDENT    AN'D    THE    NET 

Very  slowly  she  rose  and  stood  before  him,  her  head 
now  bowed,  now  raised  for  a  pleading  look — a  picture  of 
shamed  confusion  from  which  Loic  averted  his  gaze,  but 
she  was,  in  reality,  desperately  collected,  thinking  hard, 
gaining  time. 

"Is  there  some  truth  in  your  uncle's  accusations?" 
L6ic  asked  again,  almost  in  a  whisper. 

Her  inspiration  came.  Meeting  his  eyes  shrinkingly, 
but  with  perfect-seeming  sincerity,  "You  know  there  is, 
— you  know  there  is,"  she  said,  very  low,  "but — but  the 
man  is  dead — died  last  year." 

Loic,  in  spite  of  his  experience  of  the  world,  believed 
her.  His  own  falls  and  stumbles  during  twenty-one  years' 
journey  on  life's  broken  road  had  not  as  yet  taught  him 
that  women,  even  when  forced  to  tell  the  truth,  cannot 
refrain  from  mixing  lies  therewith,  lies  that  excuse — as 
they  fondly  believe — the  evil  they  are  compelled  to  con- 
fess. He  believed  her,  and  even  honored  her  for  the 
honesty  of  her  painful  confession. 

Rose  longed  to  avoid  the  look  of  those  softening  gray 
eyes,  and  as  she  longed  Loic  turned  his  back  on  her, 
went  to  where  a  lamp  stood,  and  carefully  consulted  his 
watch,  although,  after  contemplating  the  bland  face  of 
this  costly  and  reliable  timepiece  for  fully  twenty  sec- 
onds, he  never  saw  the  hour.  Then  he  turned  and  slowly 
came  back  to  her  side. 

"  I  think,"  he  said,  quietly,  "  that  we  have  not  much  time 
to  lose  if  you  are  to  be  placed  out  of  harm's  way  to-night." 

She  started  violently,  and  grew  scarlet  with  surprise 
and  delight,  for  until  this  instant  she  had  not  seen  one 
ray  of  hope. 

"Oh!"  she  cried,  rapturously,  "then  you  will  take  pity 
on  me — you  will  save  me?  Thank  you,  and  thank  God, 
who  has  answered  my  prayers!" 

343 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

"Softly,  softly!"  he  interrupted,  by  no  means  enjoy- 
ing this  sudden  and  overwhelming  enthusiasm.  "  Don't 
thank  me,  please.  What  I  am  going  to  attempt  is  the 
outcome  of  circumstances  with  which,  as  you  know,  I  had 
nothing  to  do.  Circumstances,"  he  added,  more  to  him- 
self than  to  her,  "have  been  my  masters  lately.  They 
have  given  me  no  time  to  consider  and  hardly  enough 
to  do  what  seemed  best  for  the  moment." 

The  girl  was  looking  at  him  with  something  in  her 
eyes  that  in  his  preoccupation  he  did  not  quite  under- 
stand. 

"What  do  you  wish  me  to  do?"  she  asked,  in  a  lifeless, 
disappointed  voice. 

"I  am  going  to  find  for  you,"  he  said,  rousing  himself, 
"  a  disguise,  if  possible.  I  think  that  with  an  ulster  and  a 
cap  over  some  of  my  flannel  things  you  may,  in  the  dark, 
be  able  to  pass  for  a  boy.  I  will  bring  everything  into 
this  room,  and  then  you  will  please  lock  yourself  in  and 
get  ready  as  quickly  as  you  can." 

She  nodded,  and  he  could  not  help  wondering  what 
thoughts  there  were  behind  her  silence;  but  this  was  no 
time  for  reflection,  and  he  hurried  off,  reckoning  as  he 
went  how  many  hours  of  darkness  might  still  be  vouch- 
safed to  him. 

"Oh,  what  a  fool  I  am!"  he  angrily  reflected,  while 
ransacking  his  wardrobe  for  some  wearing  apparel  which 
might  be  made  to  do  for  her — "  a  nice  Squire  of  damsels  in 
distress;  Don  Quixote  himself  could  do  no  better!"  He 
violently  closed  a  recalcitrant  drawer  and,  opening  an- 
other containing  tennis-caps  and  neckerchiefs,  muttered, 
half  aloud:  "The  best  of  it  is  that  I  don't  care  a  button 
for  that  stupid  little  thing,  and  yet  here  I  am  risking 
everything  for  her  sake — Gaidik's  trick  that,  to  entangle 
one's  self  gratuitously  in  anybody's  troubles —  Well, 

344 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

on  se  ressemble  de  plus  loin,  and,  anyhow,  I  cannot  let 
that  brute  of  an  uncle  get  hold  of  her;  no,  I'm  in  for  it, 
that's  certain;  but  —  damnation!  I  don't  think  I  quite 
deserve  it." 

The  sound  of  the  wind  in  the  eaves  was  like  the  moan- 
ing of  high  rigging  at  sea.  Loic's  face  hardened,  his 
teeth  closed  upon  his  under  lip.  "She'll  be  nicely  sick," 
he  continued  to  grumble,  bundling  all  he  had  selected 
over  his  arm;  "for  I've  got  to  take  her  away  in  some 
fishing-boat  or  other.  There  is  no  question  of  going  by 
rail  or  road.  Ah!  it  would  take  a  woman  like  Gaid  to  face 
such  a  night  cheerfully- — "  Gaidik  again!  He  paused, 
the  frown  upon  his  face  deepening  suddenly.  Would 
even  the  supremely  unselfish  Gaidik  counsel  him  to  so 
mad  an  adventure?  Right  before  his  eyes,  on  the  high 
mantel-shelf,  stood  a  miniature  of  her,  taken  in  a  white 
dress  of  gauze  with  a  trail  of  starry  clematis  flung  across 
one  bare  shoulder  and  a  rope  of  large  pearls  twined  in 
her  coronal  of  -braids.  Out  of  that  lifelike  picture  two 
clear,  aquamarine-hued  orbs  seemed  to  gaze  reproachfully 
at  him.  This  was,  indeed,  a  parting  of  the  ways,  where 
even  a  young  fellow  who  has  always  marched  through 
life  with  that  recklessness  of  the  morrow  that  is  born  of  a 
fine  unconscious  courage  and  careless,  conscious  strength 
might  be  inclined  to  pause.  Well  did  he  know  what  in- 
terpretation would  be  put  on  his  abduction  of  this  girl, 
for  whom  he  never  could  "care  a  button."  Moreover,  he 
clearly  foresaw  the  effect  of  such  an  act  in  the  present 
entangled  state  of  his  own  affairs.  It  would  justify  his 
mother  before  all  the  world  and  substantiate  all  her 
hitherto  unfounded  views.  And  yet  how  could  he  now 
get  out  of  it  ?  The  frown  became  a  scowl  as  he  stood  in 
the  middle  of  the  room  with  his  bundle  of  clothes,  not 
hesitating,  but  quickly  counting  the  cost  of  the  hazardous 
•*  345 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

step  he  was  about  to  take.  With  two  rapid  strides  he 
returned  to  the  chimney-piece,  snatched  the  miniature 
from  its  gilded  stand,  kissed  it  passionately,  closed  the 
little  azure  velvet  box-frame  brusquely,  and  slipped  it 
into  an  inside  pocket.  Then,  with  a  muttered  oath,  he 
thrust  into  its  place  the  letters  hastily  penned  to  Ghislain 
and  to  his  own  man  and  hastened  away. 

There  are,  in  the  lives  of  most  of  us,  moments  when 
we  cease  to  be  men  and  women,  and  must  needs  become 
mere  human  beings;  times  when  the  influence  of  sex  dis- 
appears. Loic  had  reached  such  a  time  now.  He  en- 
tirely forgot  that  Rose  was  a  woman,  and  a  woman  who 
loved  him,  or  that  he  was  a  man,  and  therefore  subject  to 
the  influences  of  even  such  a  love.  She  was  to  him  just 
then  merely  a  creature  in  danger  and  pain  which  he 
fancied  himself  called  upon  to  help,  nothing  more.  As 
for  the  girl  herself,  she  could  hardly  be  expected  to  realize 
the  great  charity  and  quixotic  generosity  of  the  man 
who  alone  stood  between  her  and  a  grim  fate,  for  the 
capacity  for  evil  invariably  merges  at  some  point  into 
incapacity  for  comprehending  good. 


XVII 

The  Courtier. — "What  think  you  of  the  case  of  Benedick?" 
The  Chancellor. — "Think?     Why,    I've    thought    Mahomet's 
Paradise, 

But  that  his  life  lent  color  to  his  creed, 
A  marvellous  cynical  jest!     Look  you,  good  friend, 
One  woman  served  for  all  mankind's  undoing 
Unto  all  time,  but  this  poor  wretch  hath  three 
That  with  their  love  or  else  their  hate  pursue  him; 
And  of  this  twain  ask  me  not  which  is  worse, 
For  I'll  not  tell  you!"  M.  M. 

IT  was  a  most  singular  outlook,  naked,  uncouth,  pri- 
maeval, as  some  parts  of  the  earth  still  are,  and  yet 
magnificent  in  its  stern  grandeur.  The  square,  massive 
house  was  built  on  the  edge  of  a  perpendicular  cliff  falling 
a  clear  three  hundred  feet  to  the  heaving,  restless  sea — a 
cliff,  slate -hued  and  mica -spangled,  like  most  Breton 
rocks,  shading  at  the  foot  to  dark  bluish  green,  where 
the  waves  for  centuries  had  fretted  it.  The  extreme 
monotony  of  the  scene,  the  gray,  trackless  waters,  the 
vast  immensity  of  the  horizon,  all  lent  silent  voices  to 
the  burden  of  the  ancient  tune  which  the  wind  sang 
thinly  along  the  heathery  downs — that  man  is,  indeed, 
but  an  infinitesimal  and  evanescent  thing. 

Loic,  gazing  from  an  open  window  overhanging  the 
abyss,  slowly  and  comprehensively  absorbed  it  all  like  a 
long,  intoxicating  drink,  but  with  the  hereditary  calm 
and  silent  depth  of  enjoyment  of  a  true  son  of  that  grim 
old  land. 

347 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

"What,  dreaming  again?"  a  gay,  girlish  voice  said  at 
his  elbow,  and  Rose — a  greatly  transformed  Rose,  wear- 
ing a  pretty  wrapper  the  color  of  her  name,  and  a  lace 
hood  over  her  tousled  hair — cast  her  contemptuous  and 
uncomprehending  eyes  over  the  boundless,  superb  waste. 
Her  laugh  sounded  painfully  light  and  frivolous  and 
shallow  in  the  silence  of  the  ages  which  had  brooded 
within  the  walls  of  this  little  manor  since  the  days  of 
Olivier  de  Clisson,  and  it  seemed  to  grate  upon  Loic,  for 
he  turned  abruptly  away  and  closed  the  window  with  a 
quick,  impatient  wrench. 

"I  cannot  understand  what  you  find  to  admire  in  all 
this  desolation,"  she  said,  clasping  both  hands  around 
his  arm  and  gazing  coquettishly  up  into  his  face.  "What 
is  there  that  pleases  you  in  it?" 

He  looked  down  at  her  in  a  sort  of  wonderment;  it 
seemed  to  him  that  no  woman,  be  she  ever  so  lowly  born, 
should  feel  like  asking  such  a  question.  Gently  but  with 
decision  he  disengaged  his  arm  and  sat  down  before  a 
writing-table  where  a  half-written  letter  lay  on  the 
blotter.  , 

"Are  you  going  to  write,  Loic?"  she  said,  pettishly. 
"Won't  you  come  out  for  a  walk?  The  weather  is  not 
very  fine,  of  course — it  never  is  here — but  you'd  like  that 
better  than  staying  in-doors,  I'm  sure!" 

Loic  turned  and  looked  at  her  again,  but  this  time 
with  a  curious  little  smile.  She  made  an  imperceptible 
movement  towards  him,  as  if  she  expected  him  to  say 
something  nice — she  belonged  to  the  caressing  school — 
but  he  emphatically  did  not,  and  never  dealt  in  the  ex- 
ceedingly small  change  of  continual  compliment. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  must  finish  this  letter,"  he  said,  gravely. 
It  is  necessary  that  I  should  find  out  what  is  doing  at 
La  Roche  and  also  at  Kergoat,  but  when  I  am  through 

348 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

we  shall  drive,  if  you  like,  to  post  it  ourselves  at  Ker- 
gouven.  It  is  a  pity  you  won't  learn  how  to  sit  a  horse, 
though ;  driving,  excepting  a  four-in-hand,  is  a  bit  monot- 
onous." 

"I  am  horribly  afraid  of  horses,"  Rose  muttered,  with 
a  resentful  scowl  which  distorted  her  whole  countenance 
for  a  second;  "they  are  such  stupid  brutes." 

Loic  repressed  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders,  and  without 
another  word  turned  to  his  letter,  Rose  moving  the  while 
from  chair  to  chair,  from  table  to  window,  with  a  lack  of 
repose  which  would  certainly  have  got  upon  the  nerves 
of  a  less  self-possessed  man. 

He  had  already  learned  the  uselessness  of  arguing  any 
point  with  this  girl,  who,  on  her  side,  did  not  at  all  under- 
stand him.  There  was  something  cold,  rugged,  and  dogged 
in  him  which  made  him  to  her  an  utterly  incomprehensible 
being.  A  man  is  generally  at  a  disadvantage  in  the 
presence  of  the  woman  who  loves  him,  for  she  easily  sees 
through  him  at  a  glance,  but  Rose  possessed  no  such 
penetration,  and  Loic  was  and  would  ever  remain  an 
enigma  to  her.  She  knew  how  to  manage  him,  however, 
by  making  unscrupulous  use  of  her  clinging  weakness, 
and,  in  spite  of  all  his  native  good  sense  and  shrewdness, 
in  spite  of  all  his  impatience  of  control,  no  matter  how 
hard  she  strained  upon  this  one  slender  string,  he  invari- 
ably responded. 

He  did  not  like  her  one  whit  more  than  when  he  had 
taken  her  away  from  Yffiniac  on  that  stormy  night  six 
weeks  before  with  the  mere  intention  of  placing  her  in 
safety,  but  he  endeavored  not  to  let  her  see  this.  He  could 
not  tell  her  how  her  silly  terrors  and  continual  sea-sickness 
during  the  trip  along  the  coast  to  furthermost  Brittany 
had  exasperated  him,  used  as  he  was  to  so  different  a 
stamp  of  woman.  He  could  not  tell  her  that  her  past, 

349 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

her  birth,  her  looks,  her  habits,  her  complaining,  pettish, 
"pick-me-up-or-I-die"  little  mannerisms  made  him  long 
twenty  times  a  day  to  run  away  from  her ;  that  the  chain 
which  now  bound  them  together  galled  him  often  beyond 
endurance.  No,  none  of  these  things  could  Loic  de  Ker- 
goat,  in  his  great  generosity,  tell  the  person  whom  they, 
after  all,  most  concerned.  His  method  certainly  erred 
on  the  side  of  reticence. 

Rose  was  bright  enough — light  and  gay — so  long  as  it 
was  a  question  of  chattering  like  a  magpie,  of  donning  the 
charming  toilettes  Loic  had  ordered  for  her  from  Paris, 
and  of  getting  herself  initiated  into  the  life  of  ease  and 
luxury  which  had  so  suddenly  fallen  to  her  lot ;  but  when- 
ever things  did  not  go  precisely  to  her  liking  she  was 
prone  to  sulk  a  little  and  vent  her  ennui  in  bitter  remarks* 
about  Loic's  beloved  Brittany,  its  hazy  skies,  its  frequent 
storms,  even  the  poetic  little  Castel,  once  the  property 
of  Olivier  de  Clisson,  which  he  had  rented,  thinking,  rea- 
sonably enough,  that  nobody  would  dream  of  looking 
for  them  in  that  wild  region,  where  there  were  no  rail- 
roads for  some  sixty  miles. 

He  was  feeling  bitterly  the  fret  of  the  aforesaid  chain 
as  he  resumed  his  pen  and  glanced  for  a  second  or  so  from 
its  sharp  gold  point  to  the  inkstand  before  him.  His 
life,  taking  it  all  in  all,  had  been  hitherto  no  great  suc- 
cess, but  he  wondered  just  then  whether  any  or  all  of  it 
had  ever  been  as  bad  as  this.  "You  will  be  a  weak  fool, 
will  you?"  his  inward  self  demanded.  "Why  didn't  you 
at  least  stick  to  your  original  programme?"  At  last  he 
slowly  dipped  the  pen  into  the  ink,  but  instead  of  resum- 
ing his  letter  he  began  to  draw  a  race-horse  and  jockey 
on  the  blotting-pad,  doing  this  with  elaborate  care  and 
attention.  Beneath  the  window  a  deep- voiced  Picardy 
wolf-hound  was  baying  nervously  and  intermittently  at 

350 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE*  NET 

the  gently  advancing  twilight.  Loic  dropped  his  pen 
and  looked  at  his1  watch. 

"  Go  and  dress,  Rose,"  he  said.  "  I  shall  be  ready  for  a 
walk  in  ten  minutes;  my  letter  can  wait  till  to-morrow." 

"It  would  be  worse — much  worse,"  he  muttered  to 
himself  when  she  had  gone,  "if  I  loved  her;  so,  I  am  much 
better  able  to  do  the  right  thing  by  her."  All  the  man 
was  revealed  in  that  one  sentence. 

He  was  leaning  one  hand  and  arm  on  the  mantel-piece, 
looking  thoughtfully  into  the  fire,  when  the  rustle  of  silk 
made  him  turn  his  head,  and  Rose,  beautifully  dressed, 
rushed  in  with  a  frightened  face. 

"There  is  a  carriage  coming  up  the  causeway!"  she 
stammered.  "I  saw  it  from  my  window;  and  oh,  Loic, 
there  are  a  couple  of  gendarmes  riding  beside  it!"  And 
she  threw  herself  upon  him,  her  chin  quivering,  her  eyes 
dilated  with  terror. 

Through  the  open  doorway  appeared  the  startled  faces 
of  a  couple  of  servants  who  had  also  seen  the  disquieting 
cavalcade — gendarmes  are  invariably  the  stormy  petrels 
of  misfortune  and  of  shame  in  the  provinces. 

For  the  merest  fraction  of  a  minute  Loic  stood  listening ; 
then,  disengaging  himself  from  Rose's  convulsively  cling- 
ing arms,  he  said,  quietly:  "I  must  go  and  see  what  it  is. 
Whatever  happens,  stay  here  till  I  come  back."  And  he 
was  turning  to  leave  the  room  when  the  clink  of  spurs 
sounded  outside  and  he  was  confronted  upon  the  thresh- 
old by  a  brigadier  de  gendarmerie  and  a  cloaked  and  veiled 
woman. 

The  woman  pointed  very  dramatically  towards  the 
cowering  figure  of  Rose,  and  in  a  voice  ludicrously  tragic, 
exclaimed : 

"That  is  my  daughter,  Brigadier.     Apprehend  her!" 

Loic,  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  was  calmly  surveying 


THE|TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

the  scene.  He  knew  that  he  was  trapped,  that  no  power 
on  earth  could  prevent  the  law  from  now  taking  its  course. 
He  had  abducted  a  minor  and  must  bear  the  consequences ; 
indeed,  the  only  thing  which  surprised  him  was  that 
Madame  Billot  should  not  have  bidden  the  gendarme  to 
"apprehend"  him  first;  but  this  she  evidently  did  not 
wish  done,  for  the  "brigadier"  turned  obsequiously  to 
him  with  muttered  excuses  as  he  advanced  towards  Rose. 

"Listen  to  me,"  Loic  said,  speaking  very  distinctly. 
"I  am  the  Marquis  de  Kergoat,  and  if  you  lay  a  hand 
on  that  young  lady  I  will  make  you  sorry  for  it." 

The  officer  drew  back  a  pace;  he  had  met  the  eyes  of 
L6ic,  and  that  one  look  was  enough  for  him ;  but  Madame 
Billot,  perceiving  his  hesitation,  cried,  in  shrill  excite- 
ment: "I  call  upon  you  to  arrest  my  daughter,  Rose 
Billot,  a  minor,  whom  we  find  here  living  in  a  state  of 
concubinage.  Do  your  duty!  You  have  your  orders 
from  the  Prefecture." 

The  brigadier  winced;  his  duty  was  clear,  of  course,  and 
again  he  advanced  a  step,  but  Loic  had  forestalled  him. 
Bending  down,  he  took  hold  of  both  Rose's  hands  and 
lifted  her  from  the  seat  where  she  crouched.  "Don't  re- 
sist; it  is  useless,"  he  whispered,  quickly.  "I  won't  for- 
sake you.  Be  brave!"  And  with  a  sort  of  stern  gentle- 
ness he  touched  her  cheek  with  his  lips  before  stepping 
back  as  if  in  formal  surrender  to  the  law.  Then  Rose 
stood  up,  and,  opening  her  white  lips,  she  cursed  her  mother. 

Madame  Billot,  lifting  her  gloved  hands  to  her  veil, 
pushed  it  up  on  her  scarlet,  furious  face,  and  cried  out, 
fiercely,  "Take  her  down  to  the  carriage!"  Then,  turn- 
ing to  Loic,  she  said,  witheringly,  "You  can  thank  God 
that  I  still  love  you  too  well  to  have  you  arrested  also!" 

For  a  second  she  stood  close  to  him,  looking  straight 
into  his  eyes  with  an  expression  which  Messalina  might 

352 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

lave  envied  her;  then,  without  another  word,  she  followed 
ler  daughter  and  the  gendarme  out  of  the  room. 
#  *  #  *  *  *  * 

Half  an  hour  later  Loic  heard  the  gravel  beneath  his 
vindows  grate  under  the  light  hoofs  of  a  thorough-bred 
lorse  and  the  slow  tread  of  a  stableman.  Quickly  he 
lipped  on  his  gloves,  walked  down-stairs,  and  prepared 
o  mount,  his  face  showing  white  and  set  as  a  flint  in  the 
noonlight.  He  slipped  two  fingers  beneath  the  girths, 
jave  a  preliminary  tug  at  the  stirrup-leathers,  and  then 
,urned  to  the  groom. 

"I  have,"  he  said,  "given  orders  that  everything  here 
ihould  remain  as  it  is  until  my  return.  Take  good  care 
)f  the  carriage-horses." 

Then  he  vaulted  into  the  saddle  cowboy  fashion, 
vhistled  to  his  hound  to  follow  him,  and  vanished  at  a 
iharp  pace  into  the  moonlit  haze  rising  from  the  sea. 
Dhe  sound  of  the  eager  horse's  flighty,  unsteady  trot  upon 
;he  crisp  night  air  was  soon  followed  by  an  even  thud, 
;hud,  thud,  in  regular  rhythmical  cadence,  as  the  animal 
settled  to  its  work,  and  almost  immediately  a  vague  sense 
>f  peace  began  to  take  the  place  of  the  anger  which,  until 
:hen,  had  raged  in  its  rider's  mind. 

The  great,  sombre  heath  lay  silent  beneath  the  starry 
jky;  the  subtle  fragrance  of  bracken  and  brine  mingled 
with  the  cold  breath  of  the  night  and  braced  him  by  its 
tonic  strength;  the  familiar  creak  of  saddle  and  bridle, 
the  slight  jingle  of  the  snaffle-rings,  had  a  delightful  sense 
Df  something  found  again,  and  he  turned  his  head  to  call 
out  almost  gayly  to  the  shaggy  hound  who,  with  ears 
well  set  back,  was  galloping  behind  him,  "Come  along, 
Teuss,*  we've  got  no  time  to  lose." 

*  Breton  for  "  Devil."     Pronounced  Toyce. 
353 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

At  the  end  of  the  steep,  mile-long  causeway  spanning 
the  rocky,  narrow  valley,  which,  like  a  California  canon, 
separates  the  manor  cliffs  from  another  ridge  quite  as 
rugged  and  forbidding,  Loic  checked  his  horse  and  took 
a  long  look  at  the  fortress-like  house  where  he  had  spent 
six  of  the  most  colorless  and  insipid  weeks  of  his  whole 
life,  and  experienced  one  of  its  most  exasperating  humilia- 
tions. 

"It  always  ends  with  me,"  he  said,  aloud,  to  the  justly 
surprised  Teuss,  who,  sitting  in  dignified  bolt-uprightness 
beside  his  horse,  deferentially  cocked  one  ear  to  listen 
to  this  sapient  remark — "it  always  ends  with  me,  by  my 
discovering  how  great  a  fool  I  really  can  be  when  I  try!" 

Teuss  gravely  inclined  his  intelligent  head  to  one  side 
as  if  too  polite  to  contradict,  although  there  might  be  in 
his  canine  opinion  something  to  argue  against  so  severe  a 
self-criticism,  and  as  no  further  remark  was  addressed  to 
him  he  allowed  his  pink  tongue  to  hang  from  the  leeward 
of  his  mouth,  as  is  the  custom  of  his  tribe  to  do  after 
running  fast.  He  was  a  shrewd,  but  rather  distant  and 
haughty,  dog  of  very  formidable  appearance,  who  had  but 
lately  become  Loic's  property,  which  fact  did  not,  how- 
ever, prevent  them  from  already  loving  and  understand- 
ing each  other  perfectly,  for  they  both  possessed,  in  an 
almost  equal  degree  and  in  spite  of  their  grim  and  fierce 
occasional  angers,  wofully  affectionate  hearts. 

A  sudden  thought,  however,  made  Loic  at  this  juncture 
brutally  tighten  his  grip  on  the  reins  and  sent  the  three 
night -travellers,  man,  horse,  and  dog,  down  the  steep 
descent  of  the  ridge  at  a  most  imprudent  pace.  How 
was  it  that  it  should  not  have  occurred  to  him  sooner? 
Surely  Madame  Billot  had  not  financed  the  long  and 
expensive  search  which  had  resulted  in  Rose's  capture. 
Was  it,  then,  the  Marquise  de  Kergoat  who,  through 

354 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

Rivier,  had  furnished  the  money  for  that  amiable  enter- 
prise ?  A  violent  anger — just  such  an  unreasoning,  fero- 
cious one  as  could  at  any  instant  animate  the  huge  dog 
now  tearing  along  at  his  side — rose  up  in  Loic,  a  very 
frenzy  of  passion,  which  made  him  bite  his  lips  until  the 
taste  of  blood  in  his  mouth  made  him  realize  that  he  was 
once  again  putting  his  foolishness  to  the  proof.  Also 
the  speed  at  which  he  was  going,  and  the  mighty  rush  of 
salt  wind  he  was  cutting  through,  helped  him  to  recover 
his  sang-froid,  and  by  the  time  he  had  reached  the 
plain  he  was  again  quite  calm,  but  of  a  calmness  more 
dangerous  even  than  his  previous  rage.  The  plot  of 
which  he  had  been  the  object  seemed  to  him  peculiarly 
vile,  and  as  he  rode  along  at  a  steadier  pace  throughout 
the  dark,  velvety  night  he  made  up  his  mind  that  the  time 
had  now  come  for  him  to  show  what  sort  of  a  risk  there 
might  be  in  attacking  him  thus  underhandedly. 

It  was  six  o'clock  in  the  morning  when  he  reached  the 
little  town  of  Kernels',  situated  some  thirty  miles  from 
the  coast;  that,  with  its  huddle  of  roofs  and  spires  within 
the  massive  circuit  of  a  towered  and  crenellated  wall, 
presented  a  most  poetic  reminder 

"  Of  old,  unhappy,  far-off  things,  and  battles  long  ago." 

The  tiny  burgh  was  already  wide-awake  when  his  horse's 
hoofs  clattered  through  the  grinning  barbican  into  its  nar- 
row main  street,  for  it  was  market-day,  and  the  pave- 
ment was  thronged  with  peasants  dressed  in  their  gor- 
geously broidered  fete  clothes.  Women  carrying  baskets 
of  eggs,  fruit,  or  vegetables  turned  to  peep  beneath  their 
nunlike  coiffes  at  the  solitary  horseman,  and  thought  he 
had  ridden  in  to  attend  the  great  semiannual  horse-fair 
that  was  filling  the  western  ramparts  with  a  continuous 
trampling  of  feet  and  a  harsh  clamor  of  bartering  voices ; 

355 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

children  scurried  away  before  the  long,  supple,  untiring 
lope  of  Teuss ;  and  finally  Loic  reached  the  hotel,  where 
he  devoted  forty  minutes  to  his  horse's  welfare.  He  was 
not  the  man  to  trust  this  plucky  animal  to  the  tender 
mercies  of  a  stupid  -  looking  hostler,  and,  much  to  that 
dignitary's  surprise,  threw  off  his  coat  and  took  to  rub- 
bing down  the  lathered  flanks  with  a  vigor  quite  unim- 
paired by  a  whole  night  in  the  saddle. 

When,  after  splashing  about  in  newly  drawn  well-water 
for  a  few  minutes,  and  swallowing  a  cup  of  coffee  and  a 
slice  or  two  of  brown  bread  and  butter,  he  lighted  a 
cigarette  and  sauntered  out,  he  gazed  in  amuserrfent  at 
the  open  market-square,  hard  with  the  tread  of  many 
sabots,  which  fronted  the  hostelry. 

Remote  is  an  epitome  of  many  centuries  of  history, 
an  enduring  monument  of  the  fierce  wars  which  convulsed 
Brittany  in  the  days  of  De  Montfort  and  Charles  of  Blois. 
Many  of  L6ic's  doughty  warrior-ancestors  had  defended 
the  stout  walls  of  this  little  stronghold  from  English 
or  French  assault,  and  it  has  retained  from  those  heroic 
times  an  enduring  expression  of  proud  and  forbidding 
strength.  Even  its  grass -grown  ramparts,  skirted  by 
the  now  peaceful  waters  of  the  moat — where  silvery  lilies 
and  delicate  reeds  thrive  marvellously  —  give  no  im- 
pression of  disarmament,  but  rather  seem  still  a  living, 
breathing  tribute  to  the  struggles  that  have  been,  drows- 
ing merely  in  rusty  harness,  but  still  ready  to  awaken 
fully  prepared  to  meet  any  emergency,  any  welcome 
rumor  of  war. 

Loic  passed  slowly  down  the  Place,  which  to-day  was 
studded  with  small  booths  made  of  four  boards  and  a 
few  armfuls  of  fragrant  pine  branches,  waving  softly  in 
the  breeze  with  a  shadowy,  forest  effect.  A  sharp  smell 
of  fresh  vegetables  and  smoked  fish  and  meats  filled  the 

356 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

r,  and  a  veritable  babel  of  voices  testified  to  the  ardor 
:  the  traffic  now  in  progress.  Everywhere  broad- 
inged  coiffes  came  floating,  like  flocks  of  great,  slow 
.rds,  down  all  the  little  tortuous  streets  converging 
•wards  the  market,  an  occasional  golden  sun-ray  thread- 
g  the  duskiness  of  the  ancient  eaves,  making  the  rich 
asses  of  the  corsage  embroideries  or  the  silver  buckles 

the  men's  broad-leafed   hats   sparkle   like  diamond- 
ist. 
On  the  low  wall  encircling  the  Halle  aux  Bles  groups 

women  were  perched,  knitting  industriously,  laughing 
>ftly,  and  whispering  to  one  another  while  awaiting  the 
turn  of  their  lords  and  masters,  engaged  in  buying  or 
lling  the  sturdy  little  thick-maned  ponies  or  the  taller, 
ore  powerful  draught-horses  which  are  the  principal 
urce  of  revenue  of  that  part  of  the  country. 
Smoking  still,  Loic  walked  on,  much  diverted  by  the 
marks  in  Breton  which  his  approach  attracted.  The 
en  and  women  of  Kernole,  like  the  rest  of  the  popula- 
)n  of  Basse-Bretagne,  hate  strangers,  and  show  a  very 
lamiable  front  to  the  hapless  "Franc"  or  "Angliche" 
tio,  in  an  imprudent  moment,  wanders  into  their  midst ; 
it,  notwithstanding  his  very  un- Breton  attire,  Loic 
is  instantly  recognized  as  "one  of  our  Seigneurs,"  and 

the  remarks  murmured  to  the  click  of  the  knitting- 
;edles  were  dutiful,  flattering,  innocent,  and  gentle,  not 
arse  and  offensive  as  they  would  otherwise  have  been, 
icre  were  faces  as  pure  and  proud  as  that  of  a  Vierge 

Missel  among  the  groups  upon  the  wall,  but,  had 
)ic  been  a  "stranger,"  the  clear  blue  eyes  would  have 
stantly  scowled  fiercely  at  him,  and  contempt  and 
ifiance  would  have  distorted  the  pretty,  level  lips,  now 

smilingly  revealing  rows  of  pearly  teeth.  On  and  on 
ilked  Loic  until  he  reached  the  horse-fair  outside  the 

357 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

west  gate  of  the  town.  There  the  row  of  high-gabled 
houses  overtopping  the  machicolated  walls  amid  a  foam 
of  verdure  and  of  winter-flowering  clematis  frontiered  on 
one  side  the  wide  space  where  file  after  file  of  horses 
surged  and  swayed,  and  Maquignons,  with  long  blue  or 
white  blouses  covering  their  holiday  garb,  cursed  and 
heaped  invectives  upon  one  another,  or  grappled  bodily 
when  the  causes  of  disagreement  could  not  be  amended 
by  mere  tongue-lashings.  The  buying  and  selling  and 
chaffering  went  steadily  on,  and  above  the  rough  cries 
and  well-rounded  oaths  the  shrill  whines  of  two  Bignious 
could  be  heard,  blown  energetically  by  a  couple  of  ob- 
stinate Sonneurs,  who  heeded  not  at  all  the  turmoil  sur- 
rounding the  high  estrade  where  they  had  ensconced 
themselves,  and  upon  which  they  vigorously  stamped 
their  feet  in  time  to  the  weird  ronde  they  played. 

Loic  laughed,  his  good-humor  entirely  restored.  This 
was  his  own  country,  in  all  the  savagery  of  its  mediaeval 
beauty,  and  he  loved  it  just  as  it  was,  with  all  its  faults, 
all  its  grandeurs,  all  its  stubborn  ferocities  and  igno- 
rances. These  were  men,  not  puppets,  who  quarrelled 
there  around  him;  women,  not  dolls,  these  wives,  sisters, 
daughters,  and  mothers  of  horse-breeders,  farmers,  and 
hill -men,  who,  amid  the  drunkenness,  brutality,  and 
brawls  which  surround  them  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave 
manage  to  preserve  intact  their  touching  faiths  and  strict, 
almost  Puritanical  morality,  their  feminine  modesty,  and 
their  faultless  honesty.  Thank  God  they  were  not  of 
the  Billot  tribe,  nor  of  that  of  the  modern  "bachelor 
girl,"  who  deems  herself  fully  entitled  to  most  of  the 
privileges  and  liberties  formerly  monopolized  by  the 
stronger  sex.  His  eyes  were  very  tender  as  he  let  them 
rest  upon  the  great  horse-market — this  corner  of  Brittany 
as  supreme  in  influence  and  interest  to  the  whole  country  - 

358 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

side  as  the  Bourse  of  Paris  is  to  the  capitalists  and 
speculators  of  France. 

The  tempers  ran  high,  however,  that  morning,  and  two 
very  angry  men  were  apostrophizing  the  musicians,  bid- 
ding them  in  no  measured  language  to  "hold  their  row  " 
until  the  irate  ones  had  settled  a  little  difference  of  opin- 
ion concerning  the  price  of  a  pair  of  trotters.  The  "ar- 
tists," naturally  much  offended,  retaliated  forthwith  — 
interrupting  their  ronde  in  the  very  middle  of  a  note 
to  launch  a  magnificent  duet  of  curses  upon  the  gentle- 
men below.  Back  and  forth  the  tall  denunciations  flew 
— "deceased  pig,"  "kigagn"  (mangy  dog),  and  "baz- 
dotu"  (deformed  devil)  being  the  very  smallest  change 
of  these  amenities — until  suddenly  a  long  and  supple 
whip -lash,  wielded  by  a  masterly  hand,  came  hissing 
up  from  beneath  across  the  shoulders  of  both  Sonneurs. 
This,  to  be  sure,  demanded  instant  punishment,  and, 
throwing  their  dolefully  wheezing  Bignious  upon  the 
boards  of  their  e strode,  the  musicians  caught  up  the 
two  massive  bottles  of  calvados  prepared  for  their  half- 
hourly  refreshment,  and  started  to  cut  their  opponents  to 
pieces  with  these  ghastly  weapons. 

Convinced  that  there  was  now  nothing  less  than  murder 
in  the  air — he  knew  his  people,  this  young  Breton  Chief- 
tain— Loic,  thrusting  the  ring  of  by-standers  right  and 
left,  leaped  upon  the  two  threatened  horse-dealers, 
seized  one  in  each  hand,  and  hurled  them  like  a  couple  of 
bundles  at  the  heads  of  the  crouching  musicians.  The 
first  accomplished  a  clear  somersault  into  the  very  heart 
of  the  crowd  beyond,  but  the  second  landed  fairly,  and 
men,  Bignious,  bottles,  and  estrade  came  down  together 
with  a  mighty  crash  in  an  inextricable  tangle  of  wildly 
waving  arms  and  legs. 

A  roar  of  delight  rose  from  the  jostling  throng  like  an 

359 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

unfurling  wave,  for  this  simple  form  of  justice  distinctly 
appealed  to  them.  It  was  the  only  one  to  which  they 
felt  that  respectful  attention  was  due.  La  raison  du 
plus  fort  is  greatly  appreciated  throughout  Brittany,  and 
its  present  excellent  rendering  was  instantly  followed  by 
an  immediate  cessation  of  hostilities. 

"Sacred  animals!"  Loic  said,  with  na'ive  satisfaction; 
"you  must  always  be  fighting  about  something  or  other!" 
And  at  that  moment  a  tall,  splendid  old  man,  clad  in 
peasant's  garb,  stepped  forward  and  stood  shoulder  to 
shoulder  with  him. 

"Serves  you  right,  you  blockheads!"  he  called  out,  in 
stentorian  tones,  and  added  to  the  by-standers,  "Go  and 
pick  up  the  ddbris!"  He  towered  a  full  head  above  the 
crowd,  and  there  was  a  flash  of  quiet  domination  in  his 
still,  bright-blue  eyes.  Everybody  within  hearing  flew  to 
do  his  bidding,  setting  the  viciously  snarling  quartette  of 
brawlers  on  their  respective  feet,  picking  up,  with  praise- 
worthy promptitude,  the  overturned  estrade,  the  Big- 
nious,  and  what  remained  of  the  bottles,  amid  jeers  and 
shouts  of  laughter. 

"Monsieur  de  Kerdougaszt,"  Loic  exclaimed,  delight- 
edly, both  hands  out  stretched,  "  at  last  I  have  the  oppor- 
tunity of  seeing  you  again!" 

"So  it  is  indeed  you,  Loic?  I  thought  I  recognized 
the  Kerg6at  grip  when  you  threw  those  fellows  at  each 
other's  heads,"  the  old  man  exclaimed,  smiling  his  appre- 
ciation; then,  in  what  Loic  thought  the  most  touchingly 
apologetic  way  in  the  world,  he  continued:  "You  do  not 
mind  my  still  calling  you  Loic,  do  you  ?  I  have  so  much 
joy  in  meeting  you  here!" 

He  spoke  with  a  fine  simplicity,  his  delicately  wrinkled 
face  extraordinarily  brilliant,  his  height  and  supremely 
noble  carriage  making  him  a  most  striking  figure  even  in 

360 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

the  midst  of  this  gathering  of  remarkably  fine  men  and 
handsome  women. 

" Pray,  do  not  speak  like  that,"  Loic  entreated.  "You 
cannot  imagine,  Sir,  how  glad  I  am  to  see  you,  and  how 
deeply  grateful  I  am  for  your  friendship."  And,  linking 
his  arm  in  that  of  the  old  peasant-Marquis,  he  drew  him 
away,  adding:  "Let  us  get  out  of  this.  I  feel  like  a  pro- 
fessional pugilist  or  some  other  theatrical  person  of  that 
sort." 

"Good  Heavens!  I  wish  I  were  still  as  strong  as  that!  I 
would  sit  up  in  bed  at  night  to  glory  in  my  prowess,  and 
kneel  down  twenty  times  a  day  to  thank  God  for  it." 

"No,  you  wouldn't,"  Loic  answered,  with  a  hearty 
laugh.  "You  would  very  likely  dislike  the  temptation  to 
fight  that  it  affords  one,  especially  if  it  meant  making 
such  a  fool  of  one's  self  as  I  do  only  too  often." 

The  old  man  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "Then  you 
should  not  live  in  this  corner  of  the  world,  my  boy. 
Strength,  I  tell  you,  Loic,  covers  most  sins  in  Brittany 
and  insures  forgiveness  for  them  all." 

"A  la  force  du  poing?"  Loic  laughed. 

"  Exactly  so.  But  to  speak  of  something  that  greatly 
interests  me.  What  have  you  been  doing  during  the 
years  of  your  absence?" 

"Not  much  good,"  the  young  man  replied,  frankly, 
but  turning  his  eyes  away. 

Monsieur  de  Kerdougaszt  bent  slightly  forward  and 
looked  keenly  into  his  companion's  face.  "I've  got  no 
great  admiration  for  humanity,"  he  said,  quietly;  "a  very 
little  association  with  it  contents  me,  as  a  rule,  but  some- 
how or  other  I  feel  certain  that  there  is,  and  never  will  be, 
any  serious  evil  in  you." 

Loic  was  walking  stubbornly  along,  his  eyes  still 
averted.  He  flushed  with  pleasure  at  the  old  man's  tone. 
»4  361 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

"That,"  he  declared,  "is  the  best  and  most  encouraging 
thing  I  have  heard  for  a  very  long  time.  The  fact  is  that 
I've  made  rather  a  mess  of  everything  until  now.  I  wish 
I  had  seen  more  of  you,  Monsieur  de  Kerdougaszt.  You 
make  life  look  different  by  a  single  touch  of  your  hand." 

The  old  Marquis  bowed  his  silvered  head  gravely.  He 
was  not  looking  at  Loic  now,  but  at  the  delicious  pattern 
made  by  a  net-work  of  sun-rays  that  fell  through  over- 
hanging greenery  upon  the  waters  of  the  moat  beneath 
the  battlements,  whither  they  had  slowly  strolled.  Then 
suddenly  he  said,  with  entire  simplicity: 

"I  am  a  half -civilized,  obstinate  old  Breton,  Loic,  and 
am,  I  fear,  sometimes  guilty  of  unpardonable  rudeness — 
no,  let  me  say  on!  A  year  ago  I  met  by  chance  your 
mother.  She  was  then  in  a  very  imbittered  mood,  and 
she  said  many  things  which  pained  and  hurt  me  concern- 
ing you  and  that  adorable  little  creature,  your  sister." 

He  paused,  and  Loic  stood  speechless  before  him. 
What  was  there  for  him  to  say  ? 

"I  heard  her  out,"  the  old  Nobleman  continued,  with 
bitterness;  "and  then,  Loic,  I  told  her  what  was  on  my 
mind.  I  refuted  her  statements — can  a  man  refute  a 
statement  he  has  not  had  the  patience  to  hear?  I  had 
barely  had  that  patience,  but  it  was  all  my  stock.  I  am 
afraid  that  I  was  very  rough,  very  harsh.  I  am  a  great 
child  when  I  defend  those  I  love,  and — believe  me  if  you 
will — I  am  capable  of  being  aroused  to  a  very  high  pitch 
of  fury.  Immediately  afterwards,  Madame  de  Kergoat 
made  evident  and  amiable  efforts  to  restore  the  friendly 
tone  which — well — never  existed  between  us;  but  she 
had  sorely  wounded  this  old  savage  " — and  he  tapped  him- 
self softly  on  the  breast — "so  that  her  efforts  were  vain. 
Later  on  I  regretted  my  outspokenness.  I  swore  to 
make  amends,  and  that  is  why  I  tell  you  all  this  now, 

362 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

Loic,  also  because  your  mother,  in  spite  of  the  uncon- 
ventionality  and  cruelty  of  her  denunciations  betrayed 
in  every  word  of  them  a  passionate  love  for  you,  a  love 
which,  wise  or  unwise,  cannot  be  denied,  and  which  you 
must  always  remember  and  be  grateful  for.  Her  greatest 
weakness  is  jealousy — it  is  jealousy  which  has  caused  all 
your  differences  —  and  jealousy  is  the  natural  conse- 
quence of  love." 

The  charm  of  these  words  was  irresistible,  and  Loic, 
deeply  touched,  responded  to  the  mood  that  had  dictated 
them. 

"Will  you  come  and  breakfast  with  me,  Monsieur  de 
Kerdougaszt?"  he  said,  almost  timidly.  "I  would  like 
to  tell  you  a  great  many  things.  Won't  you  come, 
Sir?" 

If  any  one  ever  quite  understood  Loic — always  except- 
ing Gaidik — it  was  the  old  Marquis,  as,  some  three  hours 
later,  he  saw  the  lad  set  off  again  on  his  journey  towards 
the  railroad. 

"He  has  been  born  a  thousand  years  too  late,"  he 
mused,  as,  leaning  on  his  pen-bas*  he  watched  the  hand- 
some boy  and  the  handsome  horse  and  dog  disappear 
within  the  dark,  cavernous  gateway  of  the  old  town  wall. 
"Yes,  he  does  not  fit  in  this  modern  age  at  all.  In  the 
earlier  days  his  daring,  his  combativeness,  his  magnificent 
courage  and  obstinacy  would  have  sent  him  off  at  the 
head  of  our  Bretons  in  search  of  fabulous  victories,  and  his 
deeds  would  have  been  sung  by  bards  and  sounded  down 
the  centuries  in  Celtic  banquet-halls;  but  these  times 
dwarf  and  bewilder  him.  The  Saints  bless  and  preserve 

*  The  long  staff  universally  carried  by  the  peasantry,  made  of 
blackthorn  or  some  other  hard  wood.  Knotted  at  both  ends, 
which  are  sometimes  additionally  hardened  in  the  fire,  it  is  a  very 
effective  and  dangerous  weapon. 

'    363 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

the  boy,"  he  concluded,  almost  aloud,  his  arms  out- 
stretched in  infinite  benediction,  his  face  full  of  a  great 
pity,  and  then,  with  a  sigh,  he  hurried  wearily  away  to 
the  despatch  of  the  affairs  which  had  brought  him  for 
once  so  far  from  his  old,  ruined  home. 


XVIII 

Broad  sea!  broad  sea!  and  afar  they  haste 
Though  suns  set  dark  with  a  menace  dire, 
Or  soft  Night  pioneers  the  waste 
With  trails  of  lambent  fire. 
High  Lords  are  they  of  the  wind  and  tide, 
And  who  doth  reck  in  his  strength  and  pride 
The  deadly  draw  of  the  viewless  drift 
That  hath  such  mastery  as  a  gift  ? 
Oh,  sing  of  the  lookout  gazing  now 
From  the  lift  and  plunge  of  the  cleaving  prowl 
And  cry  with  the  sea-fowl  swift  and  free 
On  the  wallowing  waves, 
Broad  sea! 

The  Voyage,  III.— M.  M. 

"AND  are  you  sure  of  what  you  say?" 

"Absolutely  certain." 

The  Comtesse  de  Brielle  bent  her  beautiful  old  head  in 
order  to  hide  the  tears  that  rose  to  her  eyes,  tears  which 
she  would  have  been  cruelly  ashamed  to  betray  even  to 
her  favorite  brother. 

"You  see,  Elizabeth,"  Count  Re'ne'  continued,  in  a  low- 
pitched,  concentrated  voice,  "it  was  bound  to  happen. 
Genevieve  would  take  no  advice  save  occasionally  from 
that  brother  of  hers,  who  has  always  hated  Loic — his 
antithesis  in  every  respect." 

The  Countess's  still  extraordinarily  fresh  lips  were 
pressed  close  together. 

" Is  there  nothing  we  can  do?"  she  asked  at  last,  rather 
piteously. 

365 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

"I'm  no  great  diplomat,  and  I  never  had  any  aptitude 
for  toadying  or  being  patronized,  which  is  the  A  B  C  of 
all  dealings  with  Genevieve,"  he  replied,  bitterly.  "No, 
I  am  afraid,  Elizabeth,  that  we  can  do  nothing." 

"Go  and  tackle  Loic  himself,  then,"  she  suggested. 
"Surely  you  have  not  lost  all  influence  over  him." 

"That  again  is  impossible,"  he  retorted.  "I  did  my 
best  after  his  return  from  Brittany  when  I  saw  him  here 
in  Paris.  I  am  a  man,  and  a  remarkably  tough  one,  but 
I  got  a  lesson  then,  nevertheless." 

"What  was  the  lesson?"  she  asked. 

"Well,  since  you  care  to  know,  it  was  this.  After 
hedging  a  good  deal,  Loic  finally  made  a  clean  breast  of 
the  whole  matter." 

"Confessed  about  the  abduction  of  the  girl?"  she  in- 
terrupted. 

"Pshaw,  my  dear,  don't  use  such  tall  words.  If  ab- 
duction there  was,  it  was  he  who  was  abducted.  I  am  an 
average  moral  man,  I  take  it,  and  a  pretty  good  Catholic, 
but  I  cannot  find  it  in  my  heart  to  utterly  condemn  him 
for  doing  what  was,  after  all,  only  an  idiotically  chivalrous 
thing." 

"You  surprise  me!" 

"Hear  me  out,  if  you  please.  You  wished  to  know, 
remember,  and  I'm  about  to  tell  you  briefly  how  matters 
stand,  although,  in  my  opinion,  such  tales  are  not  im- 
proved by  the  telling.  The  girl  fled  to  him  at  night, 
pursued  by  a  vile  little  reptile  of  an  uncle,  who  was  de- 
termined to  incarcerate  her  in  some  provincial  St.  Lazare, 
whereupon  he  took  her  away  by  sea  to  northern  Brittany." 

"  But  does  he  love  her,  then  ?"  Madame  de  Brielle  asked, 
in  astonishment. 

"No,  not  in  the  least;  on — on  the  contrary — which  is 
the  most  marvellous  part  of  the  story.  He  does  not  and 

366 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

never  did  love  her.  *  It  seems  that  the  good  God  has  still 
a  little  room  here  below  for  simple-hearted  fools.  No; 
he  burdened  himself  with  her  out  of  sheer  pity;  that's 
Loic  in — well — in  all  the  magnificence  of  his  imbecility, 
if  you'll  agree  to  put  it  that  way." 

"I  don't  agree." 

"Very  well,  then.  Let  me  finish.  They  had  lived 
there  for  six  or  seven  weeks  in  absolute  solitude  when  the 
girl's  mother  arrived,  accompanied  by  gendarmes,  if  you 
please,  and,  after  indulging  in  a  highly  dramatic  scene, 
bore  her  daughter  away,  making,  as  one  might  say,  a 
gift  to  Loic  of  his  own  liberty." 

"Good  Heavens,  didn't  she  try  to  blackmail  him ?  The 
occasion  was  propitious." 

"Not  in  the  least;  she  played  her  role  of  indignant 
parent  to  perfection.  But  now  comes  the  climax.  Who 
do  you  suppose  paid  the  score  for  this  effective  de"noue- 
ment?" 

"Not  Genevieve?"  Madame  de  Brielle  cried,  starting 
to  her  feet  with  the  first  thoroughly  undignified  motion 
she  had  ever  been  guilty  of.  "Not  Genevieve?" 

"Yes,  Genevieve!  I  assure  you,  Elizabeth,  I  do  not 
like  all  this,  especially  as  our  dear  sister-in-law  employed 
as  her  agent  the  brother  of  that  fellow  Rivier  whom  I 
dismissed  from  Kergoat  for  gross  immorality  and  mis- 
conduct some  years  ago,  and  who  has  lately  succeeded  in 
reingratiating  himself  with  her.  I  know  the  man;  he  is 
a  damned  scoundrel — pardon  the  adjective — who  would 
sell  his  immortal  soul,  if  he  could  get  a  bid  for  it.  He 
also  hates  Loic,  especially  since  your  quick-fisted  nephew 
threw  him  down-stairs  when  he  came,  sent  by  Genevieve, 
to  remonstrate  with  him  at  La-Roche." 

"He  came  to  re-mon-strate  with  Loic?" 

"He  did,  and  got  for  his  pains  only  a  tenth  part  of 

367 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

what  he  deserved.  It  was  he  who  served  as  go-between 
later  on,  and  I  assure  you  that  when  Loic,  who  at  first 
had  wrapped  himself  in  obstinate  reticence,  came  to  this 
portion  of  the  narrative,  he  lost  every  vestige  of  his  cele- 
brated self-control.  You'd  have  thought  the  boy  was 
possessed.  It  was  a  regular  Kergoat  rage,  let  me  tell  you. 
Well,  to  conclude,  he  came  away  from  Finisterre  vowing 
vengeance  upon  everybody,  even  his  mother,  but  at 
Kernole'  he  met  Kerdougaszt — you  remember  him;  he 
is  a  remarkable  old  fellow — a  marvel  in  these  days  of — " 

"Yes!  yesl     Go  on,  go  on,  Re'neT' 

"As  you  will.  He  told  everything  to  Kerdougaszt, 
who  spoke  so  wisely  to  him  that  he  managed  to  save  us 
all  from  an  open  scandal,  and  Genevieve  from  a  final 
break  with  her  son.  Loic  reached  Kergoat  in  a  tamed 
and  softened  mood,  conscious  that  his  conduct  had,  from 
his  mother's  point  of  view,  been  pretty  bad,  and  quite 
ready,  therefore,  to  forgive  and  be  forgiven.  So,  if 
Genevieve  had  only — " 

The  Countess  was  leaning  forward,  staring  with  haggard 
eyes  at  her  brother.  "Genevieve!"  she  exclaimed.  "Ah! 
I  have  done  with  her;  she  is — oh,  never  mind  what  she 
is  —  but  tell  me,  did  she  refuse  to  accept  his  apol- 
ogies?" 

"Yes.  There  were  doings,  it  seems.  At  any  rate, 
Loic  flew  off  again  in  a  paroxysm  of  fury  equal  to  her  own, 
came  here  to  Paris,  and  is  now  going  to  the  dogs  as  fast 
as  he  can." 

There  was  a  long  silence  in  the  exquisite  little  museum 
of  souvenirs,  personal  and  historical,  which  the  Countess 
de  Brielle  called  her  boudoir,  while  she,  magnificent  in 
pansy  velvet  and  diamonds — she  was  going,  later  on,  to  a 
ball  at  the  Austrian  Embassy — paced  up  and  down  to 
control  her  indignant  agitation. 

368 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

"Do  you  know,"  she  said  at  last,  stopping  in  front  of 
her  brother — "do  you  know  that  there  is  only  one  person 
in  the  world  who  could  check  him?" 

"Yes,  I  know — Gaidik;  but  she's  thousands  of  miles 
away,  and  has  enough  of  her  own  troubles,  poor  child, 
so  she  is  quite  out  of  the  question;  moreover,  even  she 
would  find  it  no  small  task  to  make  him  hear  reason  now. 
He  has  taken  the  bit  between  his  teeth  and  is  going  a 
tremendous  pace.  Happily  his  income  is  a  big  one;  but 
even  that  cannot  suffice  him  at  the  present  rate.  Race- 
horses, steam-yachts,  and  —  other  less  innocent  amuse- 
ments cost  something." 

"What  possesses  him?" 

"I  don't  know.  There  is  more  here  than  meets  the 
eye.  If  at  least  I  were  certain  that  he  is  quite  rid  of  the 
Billots,  but  that  is  impossible  to  assert." 

"Rid  of  the  Billots!  You  don't  mean  to  tell  me, 
Re'ne',  that  there  is  still  danger  in  that  direction?" 

"I  am  afraid  so.  Loic  declared  to  me  that  he  will 
always  consider  himself  responsible  for  the  girl's  welfare. 
He  has  received  no  communication  from  her  so  far,  save 
a  short  letter  which  he  believes  to  have  been  dictated  to 
her,  and  in  which  she  declares  herself  reconciled  to  her 
fate.  On  the  other  hand,  Ghislain  d'Yffiniac,  who,  since 
his  uncle's  stroke  of  paralysis,  has  been  staying  with  him  at 
La-Roche,  has  written  to  say  that  she  is  living,  as  before, 
at  her  uncle's  shop;  but  somehow  or  other  I  don't  feel  at 
ease,  in  spite  of  these  favorable  circumstances.  That 
girl  will  not,  if  she  can  help  it,  lose  her  chance  of  casting 
a  grapple  upon  him  again.  Remember  what  I  tell  you 
to-night,  Elizabeth — we  have  not  yet  reached  the  end  of 
all  this,  and  with  a  nature  like  Loic's  one  never  knows 
what  is  to  come  next." 

Had  Count  Re'ne'  but  known  it,  this  sad  prophecy  was 

369 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

at  that  very  moment  being  fulfilled  in  a  singularly  start- 
ling fashion. 

The  winter  in  Paris  that  year  happened  to  be  a  more 
than  usually  gay  one,  and  among  the  gayest  and  most 
reckless  was — as  his  uncle  had  stated — the  young  Marquis 
de  Kergoat.  He  lived  alone  in  a  magnificent  apartment 
on  the  Avenue  des  Champs  Elyse'es,  although  his  mother, 
tormented  by  one  of  her  periodical  fits  of  remorse,  had 
opened  her  splendid  Hotel  in  the  Faubourg  St.  Germain, 
and  would  have  given  much  to  see  him  consent  to  take  up 
his  quarters  there.  This  he  absolutely  refused  to  do, 
just  as  he  had  refused  to  occupy,  even  for  one  night,  his 
rooms  at  Kergoat  on  the  occasion  of  his  last  interview, 
taking  up  his  quarters  instead  at  the  "bachelor  pavilion" 
in  the  park.  He  appeared  to  be  suffering  from  an  in- 
satiable thirst  for  continual  change  and  novelty.  He 
had  purchased  en  bloc,  from  a  ruined  acquaintance,  a 
superb  racing-stud,  and  backed  his  own  horses  heavily  at 
Chantilly  or  La  Marche;  he  rode  steeplechases,  danced, 
flirted,  gave  sumptuous  entertainments,  and  had,  in  a 
few  short  weeks,  become  the  rage  to  such  an  extent  that 
no  fete  was  considered  perfect  which  he  did  not  grace  by 
his  presence.  Before  him  stretched  an  incessantly  vary- 
ing kaleidoscope  of  amusements  and  pleasures,  when, 
on  the  night  mentioned,  he  was  suddenly  pulled  up  in  that 
easy,  swinging  gallop  by  the  cruelly  weak  hand  of  a  wom- 
an whom  he  did  not  love  and  who  was  not  worthy  of  one 
glance  from  his  eyes. 

He  had  been  dining  with  some  friends  at  his  club  and 
was  later  to  meet  them  again  at  that  very  ball  in  honor 
of  which  his  aunt  had  donned  a  portion  of  her  historic 
diamonds.  He  had  not  heard  again  from  Rose,  and  here 
no  news  was  distinctly  good  news.  No  fresh  complica- 
tion was  to  be  feared  now,  he  felt  certain,  since  the  girl 

370 


THE   "BACHELOR'S  PAVILION"   IN   THE   PARK  AT 
KERGOAT 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

was  safe  at  La-Roche,  and  yet,  in  spite  of  all  this,  Loic 
had  a  singular  presage  of  disaster  weighing  upon  him. 

When  leaving  the  club  he  sent  away  his  carriage,  pre- 
ferring to  walk  home,  for  the  night  was  one  of  fine  and 
moonlit  beauty.  The  air  was  brisk  with  the  cleanly 
smell  of  a  light  frost,  and  the  neat,  exquisitely  swept 
boulevards,  flooded  with  the  silvery  light  from  above, 
commingling  with  that  of  the  interminable  cordons  of 
electric  lamps  shining  white  beneath  the  still  leafless 
trees,  were  tempting  for  pedestrians.  He  walked  slowly 
along,  picturing  to  himself  what  this  same  hour  was  like 
at  Kergoat.  The  sea  lay  level  before  him,  shining 
gloriously  under  the  moon — shining,  too,  were  the  ivy- 
mantled  walls  of  the  chateau  and  Gaidik's  broad  balcony 
— the  gulls'  feeding  -  place.  A  faint  odor,  compounded 
of  a  fragrance  as  of  violets  from  the  salt-marshes,  of 
bruised  sea-weed,  peat  fires,  and  the  great  cedars  in  the 
park,  was  in  his  nostrils,  and  calm  serenity  smiled  at  him 
from  the  time-toned  grays  and  storm-washed  duskiness 
of  the  towering  cliffs.  Truly  the  whole  scene  had  the 
vividness  of  reality,  and  as  he  viewed  it  bitter  regret 
surged  up  in  him.  Between  him  and  the  past  there  seem- 
ed all  at  once  to  rise  a  grim  barrier,  and  he  felt  suddenly 
as  if  the  future  were  never  again  to  be  what  the  past  had 
been.  With  an  impatient  exclamation — which  made  a 
sergent-de-ville  turn  and  look  suspiciously  at  him  —  he 
fell  into  a  more  rapid  step  and  reached  his  house  in  no 
very  gay  mood. 

Letting  himself  in  with  his  latch-key,  he  did  not  at 
once  summon  his  valet,  but  walked  into  his  study,  where 
the  very  first  thing  that  caught  his  eyes  beneath  the  circle 
of  light  from  a  reading-lamp  on  the  desk  was  a  thick 
letter  addressed  in  rather  unformed,  angular  characters 
traced  in  violet  ink.  For  a  moment  Loic  stood  looking 

371 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

at  it  blankly,  and  as  if  almost  fearing  to  touch  it;  then 
brusquely  he  took  it  up  and  tore  it  open.  His  hands 
trembled  a  very  little  as  he  turned  page  after  page,  arid 
when  he  had  finished  he  sat  down  wearily,  and  with  one 
finger  began  polishing  one  of  the  silver  corners  holding 
in  place  the  pale-blue  blotting-paper  of  the  writing-pad. 
The  action  was  that  of  a  child  attempting  to  conjure 
away  some  of  the  tedium  of  a  hard  lesson  by  playing  with 
what  comes  nearest  to  hand.  His  head  was  bent  over 
the  bright  corner-piece  as  if  he  were  lamentably  short- 
sighted and  wished  to  give  the  greatest  possible  atten- 
tion to  a  difficult  task,  and  it  was  only  when  he  had  kept 
up  the  regular  motion  of  his  finger  for  fully  five  minutes 
that  he  raised  his  eyes  and  looked  somewhat  vacantly 
at  the  orderly  array  around  the  blotter,  the  gold-and- 
jade  pen-holders  in  their  separate  trays,  the  pencils,  well- 
sharpened  and  neat,  ranged  carefully  upon  the  rungs  of  a 
quaint  little  bronze  ladder,  the  ink-erasers,  and  many- 
colored  sticks  of  sealing-wax  lying  in  the  bowl  of  a  small 
antique  lamp,  and  finally  at  the  huge  bouquet  of  violets 
against  which  leaned  Gaidik's  miniature — the  one  he  had 
brought  away  in  his  pocket  from  Yffiniac  on  the  night 
of  his  flight  with  Rose. 

All  this  just  then  seemed  to  have  a  hypnotic  fascination 
for  him,  but  the  detailed  examination  of  his  writing-table 
brought  him  apparently  no  nearer  to  the  solution  of  the 
bitter  problem  evolved  by  that  fateful  letter,  for  he  sud- 
denly rose  and  began  to  pace  up  and  down  the  long  room 
with  the  regularity  of  a  ship's  commander  on  his  quarter- 
deck. 

The  shock  which  he  had  just  received  was  for  the  mo- 
ment disabling,  for  in  it  seemed  embodied  all  the  brood- 
ing, the  regrets,  the  dull,  vague  apprehensions  of  the  last 
hour,  and  it  took  him  a  little  while  before  he  could  ex- 

372 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

amine  the  situation  in  all  its  new  aspects  and  wellnigh 
insurmountable  difficulties.  So  Rose  claimed  his  imme- 
diate help!  She  was  again  being  grossly  maltreated,  and 
that  at  a  moment  when  women  possessing  a  legitimate 
claim  upon  the  man  they  love  are  surrounded  with  more 
than  usual  care  and  devotion.  Had  he,  Loic,  suspected 
that  the  weeks  of  his  imbecile  surrender  to  her  imploring 
passion  had  had  such  a  result,  he  would  not,  cost  what  it 
might,  have  left  her  a  moment  in  the  hands  of  her  mother 
and  uncle  —  that  thought  alone  would  have  made  her 
sacred  to  him — and  yet  at  that  thought  the  whole  world 
turned  to  a  veritable  hell  around  him.  He  felt  like  a 
man  in  the  resistless  swing  of  a  whirlpool,  and  a  boundless 
rage  against  himself  boiled  up  within  him,  mixed  with  a 
profound  anguish  of  suspicion  and  distrust. 

What  if  it  was  untrue  ?  Was  Rose  at  that  very  minute, 
perhaps,  smiling  to  herself  at  the  simplicity  of  the  trap 
which  she  had  set  for  him?  Would  he  not  be  an  idiot, 
and  worse  than  an  idiot,  if  he  took  this  bait  like  some 
silly,  staring  fish  ?  Why  should  he  believe  her  on  evidence 
of  so  diaphanous  a  kind,  why  take  her  word,  the  word  of 
a  woman  trying  by  every  means  to  reconquer  her  lost 
lover,  clinging  desperately  to  a  last  flimsy  chance?  Yet 
she  might  be  telling  the  truth,  after  all,  poor  little  wretch- 
ed girl,  not  yet  eighteen,  who  was  face  to  face  with  the 
greatest  pain,  the  greatest  joy  of  womanhood,  and  who 
implored  him,  her  only  friend,  her  only  hope,  to  rescue 
her  before  it  was  too  late. 

At  intervals  of  seemingly  incalculable  length  he  heard 
the  clock  on  the  mantel-piece  ring  the  hours  and  half- 
hours,  and  but  for  that  and  the  slow  crumbling  of  the 
logs  on  the  hearth  he  could  well  have  believed  that  time 
had  ceased.  A  temporary  death  and  stagnation  filled 
the  big  room,  into  which  no  sound  penetrated  save  the 

373 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

muffled  rumbling  of  carriage-wheels  from  the  avenue 
below.  But  the  intolerable  fret  of  irresolution  was  slowly 
passing  away,  and  out  of  the  dense  mist  of  doubt  and  of 
vacillation,  duty — as  he  considered  it — duty  to  a  help- 
less woman,  to  an  unborn  child,  dimly  shaped  itself  and 
defined  itself  gradually  before  him  in  all  its  implacable 
severity  of  outline.  It  moved  at  a  very  slow  pace  towards 
him,  this  stern  figure  of  duty,  but,  nevertheless,  it  reached 
him  at  last  and  laid  a  heavy  hand  on  his  shoulder.  The 
hour  for  action  had  come. 

One  last  turn  up  and  down  the  room,  one  weary  sigh 
wrung  from  him  by  a  last  struggle,  and  calmly,  deliber- 
ately he  returned  to  his  writing-table  and  sat  down 
before  it. 

"No,  Gaidik,"  he  murmured,  drawing  the  violets  reso- 
lutely forward  so  as  to  hide  the  reproachful  eyes  of  the 
miniature,  "I  must  not  look  at  you  to-night.  I  don't 
want  to  think  of  you  even!"  Then  pulling  towards  him 
a  sheet  of  paper,  he  wrote,  rapidly: 

"Be  in  the  shop  next  Monday  afternoon  without  fail" 

This  he  neither  signed  nor  addressed,  but,  folding  it  into 
as  small  a  volume  as  possible,  he  rang  for  his  valet. 

Robin  perceptibly  started  when  he  entered  the  room 
and  looked  at  his  master,  but  Loic  did  not  take  any  note 
of  this,  and,  rising,  said  as  quietly  as  if  giving  an  every- 
day order: 

"Robin,  I  want  you  to  do  me  a  rather  peculiar  service. 
It  is  necessary  that  you  should  start  by  the  early  train 
for  La-Roche-Sur-Yon.  Things  of  the  most  serious  im- 
portance depend  upon  your  doing  exactly  what  I  tell  you. 
As  soon  as  you  arrive,  go  to  the  Parjumerie  Lierre — but 
here;  stop  a  moment;  tell  me  first,  do  either  M.  Lierre 
himself  or  his  sister,  Madame  Billot,  know  you?" 

374 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

"No,  Monsieur  le  Marquis.  During  Monsieur  le  Mar- 
quis's stay  at  Monsieur  le  Marquis  d'Yffiniac's  I  never 
once  entered  that  shop,  and  although  I  know  Monsieur 
Lierre  and  Madame  Billot  by  sight,  I  do  not  think  that 
they  know  me.  Mademoiselle  Rose  alone — " 

"Very  good.  I  trust  to  your  cleverness  to  approach 
Mademoiselle  Rose  when  and  as  best  you  can.  It  would 
perhaps  be  wiser  for  you  not  to  go  to  the  shop,  but  of  that 
you  alone  can  be  judge.  You  must  contrive  to  give  her 
this  slip  of  paper  without  being  detected.  If  it  so  hap- 
pens that  you  can  speak  to  her,  tell  her  not  to  worry,  and 
that  I  shall  come  for  her  on  Monday  afternoon.  Nothing 
more ;  but  even  that  is  not  necessary,  for  she  will  under- 
stand, I  dare  say,  without  explanations.  As  soon  as 
you  have  done  this  come  back  here  immediately.  Also, 
do  not  forget  that  one  indiscreet  word  on  your  part  would 
irretrievably  ruin  me  and  cause  no  end  of  unfortunate 
complications,  perhaps  even  something  much  graver,  but 
I  know  that  I  can  trust  you." 

The  man's  honest  face  grew  red  with  pleasure,  his 
mouth  broadened  into  a  smile. 

"I  think  so,  too,  Monsieur  Loic,"  he  said,  his  mind 
suddenly  reverting  to  old  days  when  he  and  his  young 
master  had  been  boys  together  and  playfellows  at  Ker- 
goat. 

" Good  lad!"  Loic  said,  smiling  too.  "Go  and  get  some 
sleep;  it  is  very  late,  and  the  Austrian  Embassy  will  have 
to  do  without  me  to-night.  Ah!  this  is  for  you,  too, 
Robin,"  and  he  handed  him  some  money.  "Good-night 
Yes,  your  hand,  old  fellow;  you  are  the  only  friend  I  can 
rely  upon  just  now,  God  help  me!"  and  he  turned  brusque- 
ly away. 

Robin  literally  adored  Loic  and  knew  him  far  too  well 
not  to  understand  that  this  was  not  a  mere  errand  of 

375 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

gallantry  upon  which  he  was  being  sent.  With  his  usual 
noiseless  rapidity  he  crossed  the  room,  entered  his  mas- 
ter's bedchamber,  removed  the  clothes  lying  in  readiness 
there  and  in  the  adjoining  dressing-room,  turned  down 
the  lights,  and  disappeared  through  a  door  leading  to  an 
inner  hall.  His  faithful  heart  was  heavy  within  him, 
although  pleasure  and  pride  in  seeing  himself  so  implicitly 
trusted  made  his  pulses  beat  high. 

"Lord,  I  should  like  to  have  a  go  at  that  hair-dresser 
fellow!"  he  muttered  to  himself  as  he  proceeded  to  make 
his  few  preparations  for  the  journey.  "  I  wish  he  and  his 
precious  sister  and  Mamzelle  Rose  were  all  three  at  the 
bottom  of  the  sea.  They're  a  bad  lot,  and  will  do  for 
Monsieur  Loic  between  them  before  all  is  said  and  done!" 

These  bellicose  feelings  did  not,  however,  prevent  him 
from  accomplishing  his  mission  with  the  tact  and  clever- 
ness of  a  diplomat,  and  even  his  bitter  resentment  was 
somewhat  melted  when  he  at  last  came  face  to  face  with 
Rose. 

The  girl  was  literally  reduced  to  nothing.  Always 
thin,  she  was  now  absolutely  skin  and  bone,  and  her  eyes, 
in  spite  of  the  little  painful  droop  of  the  eyelids,  looked 
owlishly  enormous  in  her  dead-white  face.  They  had, 
moreover,  an  expression  which  would  have  conveyed  to 
the  slowest  brain  the  idea  that  this  girl  dreaded  to  wake 
up  in  the  morning,  and  consequently  slept  very  little,  if 
at  all.  Robin  was  not  a  particularly  sensitive  or  imagina- 
tive youth,  and  yet  he  was  softened  more  than  he  quite 
realized  by  the  sight  of  her  woe-begone  expression. 

She  was  fortunately  alone  in  the  shop  when,  after 
vainly  trying  to  encounter  her  outside,  he  finally  came 
lounging  in,  his  soft  felt  travelling-hat  pulled  well  down 
over  his  eyes,  and,  the  day  being  cold,  his  coat-collar 
turned  up  as  far  as  it  would  go.  Her  mother,  uncle,  and 

376 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

sister  were  eating  their  early  dinner  in  the  back  shop,  from 
whence  they  could  watch  her  easily,  but  they  were  not 
quite  within  ear-shot,  and,  having  fallen  into  one  of  their 
eternal  quarrels,  failed  at  first  to  notice  his  entrance. 

The  fading  light  of  a  gloomy  afternoon  was  fully  re- 
flected on  the  girl's  face  as  she  stood  behind  the  counter 
dusting  some  bottles  of  perfume,  and  Robin,  leaning 
against  the  show-case  separating  them,  looked  keenly  at 
her. 

"I  have  something  here  for  you  from  Paris,"  he  said,  in 
a  low  voice,  and  quickly,  deftly,  he  slipped  the  folded 
paper  Loic  had  given  him  into  her  hand. 

She  snatched  it  with  a  little  gasp  of  surprise,  and  turned, 
if  possible,  yet  paler,  every  vestige  of  color  leaving  even 
her  lips;  then  she  gave  a  terrified  look  over  her  shoulder 
at  the  group  next  door  sitting  around  the  table. 

"  You  are  not  to  worry,"  Robin  continued,  in  a  monoto- 
nous, carefully  subdued  tone.  "Do  as  that  paper  tells 
you  and  all  will  be  well." 

"Who's  that?"  called  out  the  uncle's  grating  voice. 

"A  gentleman  who  wants  some  of  your  Essence  de 
Lierre!"  Rose  answered,  with  surprising  presence  of 
mind,  rattling  the  flacons  in  front  of  her. 

"Yes,  please,  two  flacons,"  Robin  said,  aloud,  catch- 
ing the  spirit  of  the  affair  and  pulling  some  money  from 
his  pocket  with  a  cheerful  jingle  of  coins.  "Your  hands 
are  trembling,"  he  whispered,  "and  your  mother  is  look- 
ing this  way — also  your  sister;  don't  wrap  them  up"; 
and,  thrusting  the  two  little  brilliantly  gilded  bottles  into 
his  capacious  pocket,  he  murmured,  as  he  turned  to  go, 
"Remember,  Monsieur  Loic  will  be  here  Monday,"  and 
was  gone. 

Rose  had  opened  her  lips  to  speak,  but  pulled  herself 
hurriedly  together  and  looked  carelessly  away  from 
*s  377 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

Robin's  retreating  form,  for  there,  peering  stealthily  into 
the  shop  round  the  door-jamb  of  the  inner  room  and 
barely  visible  in  the  shadow,  was  Monsieur  Lierre. 

"Who  was  this  particulier?"  he  said,  worming  him- 
self in.  "He  looked  like  a  stranger." 

Rose  by  this  time  had  every  sense  keenly  alert,  and 
succeeded  in  looking  almost  unconcerned. 

"I  think  that  it  was  one  of  the  new  gentlemen  at  the 
Ecole  de  Dressage,"  she  replied,  as  indifferently  as  possi- 
ble. 

"You  think,  eh?"  Lierre  echoed,  sneeringly.  "Well, 
I  don't.  I  believe  it  was  somebody  vastly  different.  I 
was  deliberating  about  that  when  you  saw  me  at  the  door, 
and  wondering  where  I  had  seen  that  chap  before." 

Rose  made  a  movement  with  her  shoulders  indicative 
of  utter  ignorance,  while  her  uncle,  with  his  mouth  half 
open,  a  little  wreath  of  smoke  from  the  cheap  cigar  he 
was  smoking  curling  from  the  corner  of  it,  stared  sus- 
piciously at  her. 

"Are  you  quite  sure  you  don't  know  who  it  was?"  he 
asked,  ironically. 

Rose  replied  almost  immediately: 

"Quite  sure.     He  never  was  here  before." 

"Come  here,  Aline!"  Lierre  cried.  "I  think  your 
daughter  requires  a  little  watching.  I  really  believe  she's 
receiving  messages  right  under  our  noses.  You'd  better 
see  to  it." 

Before  the  last  words  were  well  out  of  his  mouth  Ma- 
dame Billot  appeared,  holding  her  dinner  napkin  in  one 
hand  and  still  chewing  a  mouthful  of  cake,  her  very 
fashion  of  entering  truculent,  as  if  her  foot  was  in  full 
readiness  to  kick  anything  or  any  person — especially  her 
daughter — that  might  come  in  her  way.  She,  too,  had 
changed,  and  had  lost  much  of  her  beauty  and  freshness; 

378 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

her  gestures  were  nervously  restless,  and  she  was  evidently 
boiling  over  with  chronic  exasperation. 

"What's  that?"  she  cried.  "Receiving  messages — 
Rose?" 

Rose  again  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  continued  to 
busy  herself  with  the  flacons,  powder-boxes,  gayly  deco- 
rated cakes  of  soap,  and  jars  of  sachet-powder  piled 
almost  breast-high  on  the  top  of  the  show-case  behind 
which  she  stood.  Her  lower  lip  was  pressed  upward, 
forcing  the  upper  one  slightly  out  of  place,  in  a  sullen 
way  which  implied  a  singular  force  of  resistance. 

"Is  what  your  uncle  says  true?"  the  mother  threaten- 
ingly demanded.  "Answer  me,  or  I'll  get  in  there  and 
box  your  ears!" 

Rose  moved  along  the  curving  counter  and  brusquely 
turned  on  and  lit  a  brilliant  gas  "sun -burst"  above  her 
head,  thus  flooding  the  whole  place  with  light  and  mak- 
ing it  possible  for  the  passers-by  to  discern  everything 
that  was  going  on  within  the  shop. 

"Uncle's  lying  as  usual,"  she  said,  with  a  coarse  in- 
tonation Loic  had  never  heard  from  her. 

"Lying,  is  he!"  Madame  Billot  almost  shrieked,  en- 
raged beyond  measure  at  seeing  her  threat  rendered  null 
and  void  by  her  daughter's  clever  manoeuvre.  "Well, 
that  may  be,  seeing  it's  him,  but,  lying  or  no  lying,  I'm 
sick  of  having  to  watch  you,  and  I'm  going  to  take  you 
on  Sunday  to  your  grandmother's  beyond  the  marshes. 
There'll  be  no  need  for  much  watching  there,  and  she's 
not  the  one  to  be  hoodwinked  by  you,  my  girl,  you  can 
take  my  word  for  it!" 

Rose's  back  was  turned.  She  had  begun  to  dust  with 
a  light  feather  plumeau  the  thick  glass  shelves  rising, 
with  their  load  of  garishly  labelled  perfumery,  tier  upon 
tier  to  the  dado  of  roughly  painted  ivy  branches  sur- 

379 


THE    TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

rounding  the  whole  shop.  At  her  mother's  words  a 
wave  of  crimson  rose  to  her  face  and  she  but  half  sup- 
pressed a  cry  of  pain. 

"Oh,  you  don't  like  the  idea?  Perhaps  it  interferes 
with  your  plans,"  Monsieur  Lierre  called  out,  at  random, 
quite  ignorant  of  the  accuracy  of  the  shot. 

"Hold  your  tongue,  little  man;  leave  her  to  me.  I 
can  manage  her  without  your  help,"  snarled  the  widow. 
"And  you,  Seraphine,"  she  continued,  turning  furiously 
upon  her  second  daughter,  who  had  followed  her  in  and 
was  snickering  tantalizingly  and  making  a  long  nose  at 
her  sister,  "let  me  see  your  heels.  Your  place  is  up- 
stairs at  your  copy-books;  go  instantly!" 

"Oh,  pshaw!  don't  put  on  such  airs,"  the  lanky  but 
extremely  pretty  fourteen-year-old  girl  said,  contemptu- 
ously, but  putting  the  whole  width  of  the  floor,  never- 
theless, between  her  mother  and  herself.  "Go  for  Rose; 
she's  used  to  it,"  and  with  a  final  grimace  she  scampered 
away,  singing  at  the  top  of  her  lungs: 

"Je  voudrais  que  la  Rose 
Fut  encore  au  Rosier, 
Ou  que  son  ami  Pierre 
Fut  encore  a  ses  pieds!" 

Madame  Billot  threw  her  napkin  on  the  top  of  a  pyra- 
mid of  artistically  scaffolded  tooth  and  nail  brushes  with 
such  violence  that  she  brought  them  down  with  a  loud 
clang  upon  the  counter,  and  started  in  pursuit,  one  hand 
furiously  uplifted,  while  Rose  sank  wearily  upon  a  high, 
revolving  stool,  one  of  a  stationary  row  that  stood  along 
the  front  of  the  show-case. 

"Look  here!"  Monsieur  Lierre  said,  leaning  forward 
and  bringing  his  fierce,  sallow  face  within  an  inch  of  her 
own.  "I'm  up  to  your  pretty  game,  my  little  pet! 

380 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

You're  trying,  maybe,  to  give  us  the  slip  again,  but  pas 
de  fa  Lizette!  To  the  marsh-lands  you  shall  go,  and  if 
that  don't  answer — " 

"What  do  you  mean?"  Rose  asked,  straightening  her- 
self on  the  narrow,  slippery  seat  and  looking  fearfully  at 
him. 

"That  I  know  yet  of  another  prison  for  you,  if  that 
don't  suffice,"  he  replied,  with  a  derisive  little  laugh — 
"a  place  where  gay  birds  like  you  must  needs  roost 
alone!"  He  might  have  been  speaking  to  a  creature 
fallen  into  the  lowest  depths  of  the  gutter,  so  intense 
was  his  contempt  and  ferocity. 

Rose's  eyes  flashed  dangerously,  and  her  white  teeth 
clinched  for  a  moment  over  her  lower  lip. 

"I  won't  go!"  she  cried,  passionately. 

The  hair-dresser  burst  into  a  loud  guffaw;  the  idea 
of  Rose  resisting  him  seemed  infinitely  diverting.  "You'll 
have  to  do  as  you  are  told,"  he  said,  as  soon  as  he  could 
speak.  "You  are  no  longer  Madame  le  Marquise  de  la 
Main-Gauche,  but  merely  little  Rose  Billot,  my  much- 
dishonored  niece,  and  I  can  force  you  to  my  will.  Voila ! 
D'  you  think  that  I'm  minded  to  have  you  discredit  us 
all  a  second  time  with  the  Nobility  and  gentry  here,  and 
turn  my  shop  into  a  howling  wilderness?  If  your  gam- 
bades had  been  of  a  nature  to  bring  me  new  customers,  I 
might  have  winked  at  them;  but  for  you  to  decamp 
with  the  intimate  friend  of  all  the  great  houses  here  is  a 
little  too  much  for  me  to  swallow.  D'  you  want  to  beggar 
us?  Nay,  my  sweet  Rose,  don't  hang  your  head;  you've 
got  a  kind  uncle  who'll  put  a  spoke  in  your  wheels,  never 
fear." 

Rose,  staring  hopelessly  into  the  little  villain's  face, 
knew  that  she  was  utterly  in  his  power — bound  hand  and 
foot.  She  could  not  resist  either  him  or  her  mother,  and, 

381 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

least  of  all,  could  she  prevent  them  from  consigning  her 
to  the  marsh-lands,  where  her  hard-hearted,  harsh-spoken 
grandmother  —  who  abhorred  her  daughter-in-law  and 
grandchildren  alike — would  make  her  life  a  hell.  She  re- 
alized that,  now  that  their  suspicions  were  once  aroused, 
they  would  drag  her  relentlessly  away,  preventing  her 
from  being  at  the  shop  on  the  Monday  appointed  by 
Loic;  and  at  the  thought  she  felt  herself  going  stark,  star- 
ing mad.  The  color  which  had  been  ebbing  slowly  from 
her  face  now  burned  there  again  brilliantly,  her  lips  felt 
dry  and  shrivelled  as  if  she  had  just  passed  through  a 
sirocco,  and  her  heart  throbbed  painfully — it  seemed  to 
be  in  her  throat. 

"Are  you  convinced?"  went  on  Lierre,  with  the  de- 
liberate cruelty  of  a  tyrant.  "Do  you  see  how  neatly 
caught  you  are?" 

His  victim  winced,  and  her  pale  eyes  wavered,  as  if 
she  were  about  to  give  way  to  panic  and  run  straight 
out  of  that  place  of  torment,  she  knew  not  whither. 

"  Our  little  town  is  getting  too  hot  to  be  safe  for  you — 
the  marshes  will  prove  cooler — see!"  Lierre  was  now 
bending  over  her  like  a  man  holding  a  whip  over  a  cow- 
ering dog.  "Besides,"  he  concluded,  "there  isn't  a 
paroissien  under  fifty  years  old  at  your  granny's  farm — 
that's  reassuring,  too,  after  a  fashion,  being  given  your 
inflammable  nature!"  and  with  a  contemptuous  nod  the 
terrible  Lierre  pirouetted  on  his  heel  to  go  and  resume 
his  now  ice-cold  demi-tasse,  calling  out  over  his  shoulder 
as  he  went:  "Had  it  not  been  for  fear  of  your  cursed 
Marquis's  interference  you'd  long  have  been  in  a  reform- 
atory; but,  after  all,  the  marshes  will  be  just  as  safe. 
Trust  your  loving  granny  for  that." 


XIX 

Wide -spread  and  stretching  from  the  solid  shore 

Leagues  to  the  low  horizon,  all  the  fens 

Lay  flat  and  shameless  to  the  misty  sun; 

The  thick  air  danced  with  heat,  and  unreal  sounds, 

Like  curlew's  cry  or  dreary  insect's  hum, 

Held  converse  with  the  silence,  that  replied 

With  all  the  hopeless  voices  of  the  winds, 

Susurrus  of  reeds,  or  billowing  of  the  grass, 

Bubbling  of  exhalations,  or  small  life 

That  squeaked  or  splashed  unseen;  yea,  of  the  clouds 

Shadows  alone  seemed  living  things,  and  they 

Darkened  the  scrofulous  levels  in  their  haste 

To  flee  and  pass  beyond!  M.  M. 

As  far  as  the  eye  could  reach  the  unbroken  levels  were 
covered  with  low,  rank  growth,  with  here  and  there  a 
scrubby  willow  —  mile  after  mile  without  variety,  with- 
out hope,  and  beneath  it  the  stagnant  waters  of  many 
marsh  pools  glittered  sullenly.  Here  and  there  broad 
patches  of  tall  reeds  raised  their  dishevelled  heads,  the 
wicked  green  of  their  ribbon-like  foliage  —  wholly  un- 
dimmed  by  the  slight  frost  which  had  occasionally  come 
at  night  during  the  winter  just  past — only  serving  to 
heighten  and  intensify  the  melancholy  effect  of  the  great, 
gloomy  expanse. 

One's  thoughts  turned  inevitably  to  the  thousands  of 
Blues  that  had  been  engulfed  in  these  ghastly  morasses 
during  the  Chouan  wars,  whose  ghosts  are  believed  by  the 
peasantry  to  drift  hopelessly  forever  in  the  night  mist 
above  the  tufted  grasses.  Lives  are  constantly  lost 

383 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

there,  and  not  even  the  sea — so  the  Vendeens  say — shall 
give  up  at  the  last  judgment  dead  so  countless  as  the  ter- 
rible bog. 

It  was  a  still,  lifeless  day;  there  was  no  sun,  and  the 
sky,  of  a  uniform  pearl  gray,  had  that  delicate,  cottony 
appearance  which  in  other  climes  would  have  presaged 
snow. 

Walking  one  before  the  other,  Madame  Billot  and  Rose 
were  cautiously  proceeding  upon  a  narrow  track  that 
alone  offered  a  firm  foothold  and  to  deviate  from  which 
would  be  fatal,  for  on  each  side  of  it  quaked  lakes  of  semi- 
fluid mud,  mottled  over  by  broad  flakes  of  mosslike 
vegetation  bursting  into  unhealthy  eruptions  of  glittering 
blisters  prismatic  as  soap-bubbles. 

As  the  two  women  advanced  the  path  grew  narrower, 
until  it  really  became  a  difficult  problem  not  to  slip 
from  it  into  the  clucking  sloughs  licking  at  its  base,  and 
Rose,  who  was  carrying  a  heavy  valise,  groaned  and 
stopped  for  a  moment  to  change  it  from  one  hand  to  the 
other. 

"Yet  another  joy  which  I  owe  to  you!"  her  mother 
angrily  exclaimed,  pausing,  too,  and  glaring  back  at  her 
daughter.  "If  at  least  we  could  have  come  yesterday, 
but  in  that  storm  it  would  not  have  been  possible,  and 
now  your  uncle  is  alone  at  the  shop  on  a  market-Mon- 
day. God  knows  what  imbecilities  he  will  manage  to 
commit." 

"Was  it  I  who  asked  you  to  come?"  Rose  angrily  pro- 
tested, her  eyes,  disfigured  by  constant  weeping,  blazing 
in  her  white  face.  She  was  growing  absolutely  desper- 
ate, for  it  was  now  clearly  impossible  for  her  to  escape, 
and  she  just  then  hated  her  mother  with  a  ferocity  border- 
ing on  madness. 

"No,  Mamzelle  Chiffon,"  the  widow  replied,  contemptu- 

384 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

ously.  "You  certainly  did  not  ask  to  come.  In  fact,  I 
wouldn't  be  surprised  to  find  that  you  had  plotted  some- 
thing vastly  different  for  to-day's  entertainment." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  the  girl  cried,  gulping  down  a 
sob  and  letting  the  valise  drop  at  her  feet,  where  it  lay 
almost  half  off  the  tiny  track. 

"Pick  it  up,  you  slut!"  Madame  Billot  commanded, 
harshly.  "I'll  throw  you  in  after  it  if  you  let  it  slip  one 
inch  farther!" 

"Pick  it  up  yourself!"  Rose,  now  quite  beside  herself, 
shrieked  back.  "Why  should  I  carry  it  all  the  way? 
You  are  stronger  than  I  am,  and  I'm  sick  of  being  your 
servant!" 

"You  are,  are  you?  Well,  you  won't  be  after  this; 
you'll  be  your  grandmother's,  and  she  isn't  going  to  spare 
you,  for  I'm  going  to  tell  her  all  about  your  disgraceful 
conduct,  never  fear.  She's  a  bigoted  woman,  is  Grand- 
maman  Billot,  and  she'll  make  you  suffer  for  your  sins 
day  and  night." 

"That's  what  we  will  see!"  snarled  the  girl,  defiantly. 
"I  may  have  something  to  say -about  your  own  doings. 
Did  she  expect  a  mother  like  you  to  bring  me  up  as  a 
Rosiere?" 

"Sacree  Carne!"  screamed  the  other,  her  face  distorted 
with  fury.  "You — you  deserve  to  be  killed,  that's  what 
you  deserve!  Imputing  your  debor  dements  to  me!  Wait 
till  we  come  to  a  place  where  I  can  get  at  you — you'll  lose 
nothing  by  the  delay!" 

They  were  standing  within  a  few  feet  of  each  other  at 
a  spot  where  the  width  of  the  trail  barely  allowed  one 
person  to  stand  upon  it.  This  was  the  very  navel  of 
the  bog,  a  cuplike  depression  softly  clucking  and  trem- 
bling in  slimy,  sticky  greed.  A  sinister  place,  indeed, 
filled  with  the  choking  exhalations  of  decaying  vegeta- 

385 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

tion — a  slow,  relentless  whirlpool,  from  the  clutches  of 
which  it  would  be  vain  to  try  and  extricate  one's  self  if 
once  it  held  its  prey. 

Aline  Billot,  clasping  and  unclasping  yearning  hands, 
would  have  given  ten  years  of  her  life  to  be  able  to  close 
them  about  the  girl's  throat.  They  were  no  longer 
mother  and  daughter,  but  two  crazed  rivals  glaring  sav- 
agely at  each  other,  and  who  would  stop  at  nothing,  not 
even  crime,  in  their  exacerbated  hatred. 

"You'll  not  escape  again!"  Aline  fairly  yelled.  "You'll 
never  see  your  Marquis  any  more,  even  if  he  were  not 
long  since  sick  of  you!" 

"I'll  escape  you,  and  that  at  once!"  Rose  retorted, 
between  closed  teeth,  and  with  a  last  flash  of  courage  and 
despair  she  turned  to  run,  but  before  she  had  taken  two 
steps  the  widow,  jumping  over  the  valise,  was  upon  her, 
and  a  miracle  alone  saved  them  from  rolling  together 
into  the  chuckling  slough. 

"We'll  fall  in!"  Rose  gurgled,  putting  out  all  her 
strength  to  disengage  herself;  but  the  elder  woman's 
hands  held  her  like  tentacles,  and  the  girl  felt  that  it 
must  now  be  a  fight  to  the  finish  between  them.  With 
one  supreme  effort  she  freed  her  bursting  throat  and  flung 
her  mother  from  her,  falling  herself  to  her  knees  as  Aline 
staggered  over  the  edge  of  the  track  and  fell  with  a  thick 
splash  into  the  gently  rocking  depths  of  the  quagmire. 

In  a  flash  Rose  was  up  again,  and,  not  daring  to  look 
back,  her  ears  filled  with  the  ghastly  cries  for  help  behind 
her,  she  fled  like  the  wind,  straight  before  her,  escaping  a 
hundred  deaths  by  mere  instinct,  and  sobbing  and  shriek- 
ing wildly  as  she  ran,  like  one  utterly  demented. 

Faster  and  faster  she  ran,  her  feet  hardly  touching 
the  ground,  her  breath  coming  in  gasps,  sweat  pouring 
like  rain  from  her  face,  stumbling,  falling,  dropping  from 

386 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

sheer  exhaustion,  only  to  stagger  to  her  feet  and  dash 
on  again,  until  at  last  she  saw  before  her  the  gaunt  tele- 
graph-poles of  the  high-road  looming  above  the  thicket 
of  bulrushes  fringing  the  embankment,  and  realized  that 
she  must  pause  and  set  her  disordered  clothes  to  rights  or 
else  be  stopped  and  questioned  by  the  first  person  she 
chanced  to  meet. 

With  a  violently  beating  heart  and  shaking  from  head 
to  foot  with  terror  and  fatigue,  she  stopped  on  the  edge 
of  a  pool  of  almost  clear  water  that  reflected  like  a  mirror 
of  bronze,  and,  bending  over  it,  looked  at  herself.  With  a 
cry  of  dismay  she  recoiled,  for  the  haunted  creature 
which  looked  back  at  her  from  that  glassy  surface  had 
nothing  in  common  with  the  young  girl  who  had  passed 
there  an  hour  before.  The  smooth  complexion  was  now 
blotched  and  mottled  with  patches  of  white  and  bluish 
red,  the  forehead  and  cheeks  were  streaked  with  mud 
and  sweat,  and  there  was  foam  on  the  quivering  lips. 
For  a  few  seconds  she  stood  there  chattering  and  panting, 
her  brain  in  a  tumult;  then,  realizing  dimly  that  she  must 
not  delay  in  effacing  those  telltale  stigmas,  with  shaking 
fingers  she  adjusted  her  clothes,  straightened  her  hat, 
smoothed  her  dishevelled  hair,  and  finally,  dipping  her 
handkerchief  in  the  slough-water,  rubbed  off  the  grime 
from  her  hands  and  face  as  quickly  and  as  thoroughly 
as  she  could. 

The  sober,  respectable,  country  highway  dozed  peace- 
fully in  the  thin  haze  rising  from  the  sea,  with  the  lazy, 
good-natured  platitude  of  French  chausstes.  No  one  was 
in  sight;  as  far  as  she  could  gaze  the  broad,  whitish 
ribbon  was  bare,  and  she  set  off  at  a  brisk  pace,  forcing 
her  quaking  legs  to  steadiness  and  praying  with  all  her 
might  that  her  strength  might  endure  until  the  end. 

The  end — what  was  that  to  be?  She  drearily  decided 

387 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

that  if  Loic  did  not  come  she  would  kill  herself — nothing 
but  that  could  save  her  from  the  consequences  of  the 
horror  she  had  just  left  behind  her;  and  as  she  went  she 
mumbled,  half  aloud,  the  outlines  of  the  plans  forming 
gradually  in  her  aching  head. 

How  she  accomplished  this  return  trip  she  never  quite 
remembered;  it  remained  with  her  afterwards  as  some 
fearful  nightmare  she  dared  not  recall  to  mind,  and  dur- 
ing which  she  had  groped  about  in  a  sort  of  paralyzing 
numbness,  conscious  of  but  one  wish,  one  instinct,  and 
that  to  reach  the  rendezvous,  whatever  the  cost,  what- 
ever the  pain.  Strangely  enough,  the  thought  of  her 
mother  sinking  gradually  into  the  relentless,  choking 
mud  where  she,  her  daughter,  had  thrust  her  did  not 
trouble  her  just  then ;  Loic  and  the  almost  insurmountable 
difficulty  of  joining  him  in  time  alone  was  seared  upon  her 
dazed  mind,  excluding  everything  else;  and  when  at  last 
she  reached  La  -  Roche  it  was  with  an  exclamation  of 
delirious  joy  that  she  recognized  from  afar  the  familiar 
show-windows  of  her  uncle's  shop. 

With  a  tension  of  all  her  nerves  she  steadied  her  pace, 
hurriedly  glanced  into  a  neighboring  pastry-cook's  mirror- 
like  window  to  see  if  she  now  looked  more  human,  and 
quickly,  noiselessly,  walked  into  the  parjumerie  with 
an  apparent  sang-froid  which  cost  her  the  last  remnants 
of  her  force  of  endurance.  Her  luck  still  held,  however, 
for  Monsieur  Lierre  was  busy  shaving  a  distinguished 
patron — whose  throat,  by-the-way,  he  came  near  to  cut- 
ting in  his  astonishment — but  whose  presence  prevented 
the  immediate  demand  for  explanations;  and,  save  a 
"What,  you,  Rose?"  uttered  in  a  tone  of  profound  stupe- 
faction, Lierre  suffered  her  to  come  up  to  the  counter 
unhindered.  As  she  bent  her  steps  towards  the  brass- 
bound,  winding  staircase  leading  directly  from  the  back 

388 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

of  the  shop  to  the  upper  floor,  however,  he  called  out, 
"Where's  your  mother?"  and,  recognizing  the  necessity 
of  an  immediate  reply,  she  managed  to  answer,  in  a  voice 
almost  steady: 

"Stopped  at  the  butcher's  to  get  something  for  din- 
ner." 

"All  right,"  was  the  curt  rejoinder.  "Don't  go  up- 
stairs. Take  off  your  hat  here  and  wait  till  she  comes." 

There  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  obey  instantly,  and 
with  a  heart  beating  to  suffocation  the  girl  snatched  off 
her  sadly  bespattered  toque,  threw  it  beneath  a  counter, 
and  slipped  into  her  usual  place,  wondering  dully  whether 
she  was  too  late,  whether  Loic  would  keep  his  word  and 
perchance  arrive  before  the  customer  left,  or  whether  she 
would,  after  all,  have  to  face  her  uncle. 

She  was  so  tired  that  as  soon  as  she  sat  down  she  felt 
her  burning  eyes  close  in  almost  irresistible  torpor.  Re- 
action was  setting  in,  and  she  could  hardly  refrain  from 
rolling  to  the  floor.  God!  if  only  she  could  lie  down  for  a 
few  minutes,  just  long  enough  to  relax  her  aching  muscles. 
Stealthily  she  reached  for  a  flacon  of  aromatic  vinegar 
and  dabbed  her  forehead  with  half  its  contents.  Her 
ears  were  buzzing,  every  one  of  her  nerves  tingled  sep- 
arately, and  a  feeling  of  intolerable  nausea  made  her 
clinch  her  teeth  and  hold  on  with  clammy  hands  to  the 
edge  of  the  show-case,  which,  fortunately,  partially  con- 
cealed her  from  view. 

One  by  one  she  mechanically  counted  the  minutes 
solemnly  ticking  from  the  flowered  "grandfather  clock" 
in  the  corner,  while  her  hallucinated  eyes  showed  her 
rows  of  old  gentlemen  being  shaved  and  groomed  instead 
of  the  solitary  one  over  whom  the  nheavily  frowning 
Monsieur  Lierre  was  bending.  In  a  few  moments  he 
would  have  done,  for  already  he  was  reaching  out  for  the 

389 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

powder-box — and  then  what?  How  could  she  explain 
her  mother's  non-appearance,  her  own  return  to  this 
place  from  which  she  had  been  banished — no,  no,  she 
would  not  even  try,  but  as  soon  as  all  hope  of  Loic's 
arrival  was  past — and  there  was  little  left  of  it  now, 
since  it  was  already  after  three  o'clock — she  would  rush 
out,  run  to  the  river,  and  drown  herself.  Perhaps  Loic 
had  already  come  and  gone,  although  this  seemed  scarcely 
possible,  for  then  Monsieur  Lierre  would  not  have  been 
able  to  maintain  the  comparative  calm  which  enabled 
him  to  jest  feebly  with  his  patron,  and  flourish  towels  and 
brushes  in  very  nearly  his  customary  bustling,  obsequious 
manner. 

Rose's  hearing,  rendered  singularly  acute  by  the  agony 
she  was  enduring,  was  strained  to  catch  the  slightest 
outside  noise,  and  she  could  have  screamed  with  ex- 
asperation, when  suddenly  the  shaven  one  began  to  laugh 
boisterously  at  some  inane  joke  or  other  of  her  uncle's. 

Some  centuries  ago — or  was  the  stroke  still  resonant  ? — 
the  clock  had  struck  the  half-hour,  when  she  heard  a 
noise  which  sent  her  heart  hammering  crazily  once  more 
against  her  ribs.  She  could  not  immediately  localize  or 
identify  it,  but  in  a  flash  its  direction  and  nature  came 
to  her.  A  carriage — probably  a  four-in-hand — was  ap- 
proaching from  the  nearest  street,  and  in  a  few  seconds 
more  she  caught  sight  of  it  reflected  in  the  mirror  behind 
her.  It  was  moving  at  a  very  rapid  pace,  and  she  could 
see  that  it  was  a  mail-phaeton  drawn  by  four  magnificent 
bays  and  driven  by  Loic  de  Kergoat,  with  his  valet  Robin 
beside  him. 

Slowly,  cautiously,  Rose  glided — bent  almost  double — 
behind  the  protecting  counter,  reached  the  end  of  it  un- 
perceived,  snatched  the  door  open,  and  clanged  it  after 
her  at  the  precise  moment  when  the  horses  reached  the 

39° 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

edge  of  the  sidewalk,  and  with  a  crisp,  crunching  sound 
of  dancing  hoofs  were  stopped  in  a  masterly  fashion  im- 
mediately opposite  to  her. 

"Jump  in!"  Loic  commanded,  and,  dragged  up  by 
Robin,  she  found  herself  on  the  box-seat  and  the  horses 
tearing  down  the  length  of  the  Place  at  a  gallop  before 
she  fairly  realized  what  had  happened.  As  they  turned 
into  a  side  street  she  caught  a  glimpse  of  her  uncle  stand- 
ing with  uplifted  arms,  gesticulating  violently  on  the 
threshold  of  the  shop,  and  saw  several  pedestrians  stop 
short  to  gaze  open-mouthed  upon  the  boldest  elopement 
on  record,  then  she  fell  fainting  back  against  Robin. 

The  whole  thing  happened  so  quickly  that  the  on- 
lookers could  have  believed  that  their  imaginations  had 
played  them  some  trick  had  it  not  been  for  the  sight  of 
the  half-demented  Monsieur  Lierre,  his  face  purple,  his 
lank  hair  on  end,  spluttering  and  cursing  as  he  started 
in  wild  and  vain  pursuit  of  the  vanishing  phaeton — a 
sight  which  certainly  testified  to  the  reality  of  so  un- 
heard of  an  incident. 

******* 
******* 

Above  the  great  marsh  flocks  of  water-fowl  had  gath- 
ered. Something  disturbed  their  ordinary  quietude,  and 
a  great  flutter  of  wings  broke  the  primaeval  silence  of  the 
broad  reaches,  where  since  the  beginning  of  the  world 
the  vegetable  kingdom  had  asserted  its  unquestioned 
sovereignty.  From  the  dense  thickets  of  reeds  and 
ribbon -grasses,  impenetrable  to  the  foot  of  man,  defying, 
in  spite  of  their  individual  weakness,  his  prying  hand, 
there  rose  the  angry  boom  of  bitterns,  the  screech  of 
startled  plovers,  and  the  melancholy  appeal  of  bright- 
plumaged  ducks  and  soberly  clad  widgeons,  while  far 
up  in  the  sky  some  inquisitive  ravens  streaked  the  dark 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

clouds  with  their  sombre  flight.  The  short  day  was 
drawing  to  an  end;  soon  night  would  be  creeping  up  to 
claim  the  bogland  where  her  rule  is  more  absolute  than 
anywhere  on  the  solid  earth,  for  there  it  shows  black, 
indeed,  both  above  and  beneath  in  the  inextricable  tangle. 
This  particular  gloaming  seemed,  somehow  or  other, 
singularly  sinister  and  inhuman.  Nevertheless,  a  human 
being  was  there — the  cause  of  all  this  unrest  and  agita- 
tion of  winged  life  —  a  man  who  was  creeping  step  by 
step  along  one  of  the  narrow  tracks,  and  bringing  to 
bear  upon  this  task  that  sense  of  direction  or  trailing 
instinct  with  which  gypsies  and  Indians  are  dowered. 

It  would  appear  that  he  was  quite  as  much  at  home  in 
the  labyrinth  of  a  Vendeen  marsh  as  in  the  grassy  paths 
of  the  orchard  at  Kergoat,  for  even  in  the  early  gathering 
twilight,  intensified  by  banks  of  looming  storm-clouds, 
he  kept  unerringly  to  the  perilous  little  path,  and  had  he 
not  been  burdened  with  the  dead  weight  of  an  uncon- 
scious woman  he  would  have  made  comparatively  light 
work  of  the  matter. 

For  a  very  long  time  he  had  been  scrambling  and 
stumbling  along,  obliged  frequently  to  pause  for  breath 
— for  Aline  Billot  was  no  light-weight — and  he  was  be- 
ginning to  be  keenly  conscious  that  did  he  fail  to  reach 
the  Billot  farm  before  night  was  upon  him  he  risked  being 
forced  to  remain  in  the  marsh  till  daylight.  It  was  getting 
cold,  too,  and  all  the  while  that  darkness  which  he  dreaded 
was  stalking  him  with  stealthy  tread.  Anathematizing 
these  adverse  circumstances  and  condemning  bogs  to 
summary  judgment,  Malghorn  bent  all  his  energies  to 
reach  the  little  farm.  He  knew  that  he  had  only  to  fol- 
low the  wandering  track;  but  would  he  be  able  to  do  this 
if  he  could  no  longer  distinguish  it  from  the  sombre 
greenery  which  concealed  a  horrible  death  on  both  sides 

392 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

of  it?  Meanwhile,  his  lips  parted  breathlessly  and  his 
muscles  cracked  under  the  burden  in  his  arms.  Was  the 
woman  still  alive  ?  She  did  not  give  any  sign  of  conscious- 
ness, and  not  even  the  faintest  tremor  moved  her  limply 
pendent  limbs  or  caused  her  slime  -  caked  clothes  and 
dismally  matted,  drooping  hair  to  stir  ever  so  slightly. 

At  last  Malghorn  came  to  a  wider  space  made  by  the 
intrusion  of  a  curious  coulee  of  solid  land  into  the  bed  of 
the  bog,  and  with  a  grunt  of  relief  lowered  his  burden  to 
the  ground. 

"Dead  or  alive,"  he  muttered,  "this  is  not  quite  the 
bit  of  evidence  Maitre  Rivier  expected  me  to  get!"  He 
wiped  his  dripping  brow  on  his  coat-sleeve,  and  calmly 
resumed  his  monologue:  "I  wonder" — casting  specula- 
tive eyes  upon  the  prostrate  form  at  his  feet — "if  the 
game  was  worth  the  candle,  and  whether  I'll  get  anything 
more  pleasing  out  of  it  all  than  a  foundered  back  and  a 
ruined  suit  of  clothes?"  Then  addressing  himself  di- 
rectly to  the  senseless  woman,  he  continued:  "It  was 
touch-and-go  for  you,  la  p'tite  Mere.  Suppose  I  hadn't 
been  sent  to  spy  around  your  blessed  mother-in-law's 
farm  this  morning,  you'd  have  had  your  bellyful  of  mud 
by  now — perhaps  you're  dead  as  it  is;  but,  in  any  case, 
you  owe  me  a  fine  candle!  Or  suppose  you  hadn't  been 
able  to  grab  hold  of  the  corner  of  that  valise!"  And  judg- 
ing with  reason  that  it  behooved  him  to  hurry,  now  that 
his  strained  muscles  felt  a  little  rested,  he  stooped  down, 
and,  taking  the  inert  weight  beneath  the  shoulders,  lifted 
it  bodily  from  the  puddle  of  mud  and  ooze  in  which 
he  had  carelessly  laid  it,  and  resumed  his  painful  way 

towards  the  Ferme  des  Marais. 
26 


CHAPTER  XX 

You  may  overthrow  a  Virtue,  may  eradicate  a  Vice, 

But  if  they  form  alliance  and  combine, 
Know  then  that  hostile  Fortune  has  against  you  thrown  the  dice, 

Oh,  recognize  at  once  the  fatal  sign! 
For  the  Good  excuses  t'other,  and  they  guarantee  each  other, 

And  the  False  becomes  supporter  of  the  True, 
And  to  tear  their  roots  asunder  you  may  strive  until  the  thunder 

Of  the  Judgment  Day  shall  make  the  world  anew.     **   M 


" you  alone  can  now  interfere,  and  perhaps  make 

that  unfortunate  boy  understand  that  he  is  sacrificing  his  whole 
life  and  all  his  chances  of  happiness !  Tell  him  that  a  Marquis  de 
Kergoat  has  no  right  to  fling  away  honor,  fortune,  and  the  esteem 
of  his  Peers  for  the  sake  of  a  wretched  girl  picked  up  in  the  gutter, 
or  even  for  that  of  a  bastard — bastards  are  deplorably  out  of 
date,  my  poor  Gaidik,  we  are  no  longer  living  in  the  days  of 
Froissart! — besides,  this  one  is  of  the  wrong  sex!  Loic  can  provide 
as  handsomely  as  he  pleases  for  both  the  mother  and  the  child, 
but  he  must  leave  them;  this  collage  cannot  be  endured!  You 
are  my  only  hope,  and  since  your  uncle  Re"ne  and  I  are  assuming 
the  responsibility  of  bringing  you  back  from  so  very  far  away, 
we  trust  that  you  will  leave  no  stone  unturned  to  put  an  end  to 
this  terrible  situation.  Your  mother  must  be  mad!  For  years 
she  prepared  her  son's  ruin,  and  now  she  is  doing,  wittingly  or 
unwittingly — I  don't  know  which — all  she  can  to  precipitate  the 
end.  C'est  a  se  casser  la  tete  contre  les  murs!  Read  this  inter- 
minable letter  carefully  and  act  accordingly,  my  dear  child. 

"Ever  your  loving  aunt,  ELIZABETH." 

THE  reader  was  seated  in  a  train  rushing  at  full  speed 
over  the  last  miles  of  the  Dover-London  line.  It  was  a 
summer  evening,  but  wreaths  of  dun-hued  fog  were, 
nevertheless,  creeping  in  through  the  open  windows 

394 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

from  the  amazing  tangle  of  streets  and  houses  consti- 
tuting Europe's  largest  metropolis,  and  casting  an  addi- 
tional gloom  upon  Gaidik,  who,  with  a  quick,  impatient 
gesture,  folded  the  oft -read  document  once  more  and 
slipped  it  into  a  side -pocket.  She  had  not  changed 
much,  had  Gaidik;  hers  was  still  the  same  slight,  girlish 
form,  her  calm  gray  eyes  still  sparkled  with  that  iron 
pride  of  all  high-caste  Bretons  who,  bearing  names  al- 
most dangerously  historic,  have  been  brought  up  to  carry 
their  heads  above  the  petty  strifes  and  disgustful  strug- 
gles of  modern  times.  There  was  an  air  of  extreme 
determination  about  her  whole  small  person,  and  be- 
tween her  eyebrows  a  fine  line  denoting  the  deep  con- 
centration of  her  thoughts.  For  a  moment  she  gazed 
unseeingly  at  the  ugly  thoroughfares  and  the  dingy 
tenements,  then  slowly  and  with  the  careful  attention 
which  she  accorded  to  all  she  did,  she  drew  her  long  suede 
gloves  over  the  dazzle  of  emeralds  and  diamonds  upon 
her  fingers,  smoothed  the  last  wrinkle  around  her  slender 
wrists,  and  then  sat  quietly  inhaling  the  fragrance  of  a 
large  bouquet  of  violets  which  had  lain  in  her  lap,  while 
the  train  lumbered  heavily  on,  to  be  blocked  at  Cannon 
Street,  and  there  stand  stock-still,  wrapped  about  by  the 
dismal,  smoke-grimed  atmosphere,  until  at  last  the  line 
cleared,  the  great  locomotive  clanked  on  and  screeched 
itself  nerve-wrackingly  into  the  terminus. 

Silently  the  brother  and  sister  greeted  each  other,  both 
marvelling,  during  that  first  moment,  that  there  should 
be  so  little  change  in  their  respective  faces,  upon  which 
was  just  then  an  identical  look  of  exceptional  force  of 
endurance  strained  to  the  uttermost. 

There  were  unshed  tears  in  Gaidik's  eyes,  and  perhaps 
Loic  also  did  not  feel  quite  sure  of  himself,  for  he  turned 
his  head  away  as,  pressing  her  arm  closely  within  his  own, 

395 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

he  hurried  her  away  under  his  footman's  umbrella — for  it 
had  begun  to  drizzle — towards  his  waiting  brougham, 
where  a  huge  bouquet  of  pearl-hued  orchids  gleamed 
upon  the  seat  in  a  welcome  of  ghostly  whiteness,  be- 
neath the  mist -smeared  electric  lights. 

As  soon  as  they  were  in  the  carriage,  however,  he  drew 
the  glass  up  with  an  impatient  gesture  and  threw  his 
arms  passionately  about  his  sister;  but  still  neither 
spoke,  and  it  was  only  when  they  had  reached  the  great 
hotel  facing  the  Park,  and  the  privacy  of  the  suite  ordered 
by  telegraph  for  her,  that  he  at  last  broke  a  silence  al- 
most oppressive  in  its  duration  and  import. 

"You  have  come,"  he  said,  slowly,  "on  a  hopeless 
errand,  my  poor  little  girl.  I  hate  to  tell  you  such  a 
thing  at  the  outset,  but  your  letter  left  me  no  doubt  as 
to  what  you  wish  to  accomplish,  and  it  is  best  that  I  should 
be  quite  frank  with  you,  is  it  not?" 

Gaidik  was  silent  for  a  moment,  then,  looking  steadily 
at  him,  asked,  quietly: 

"Have  I  then  lost  all  my  influence  over  you,  Loic?" 

"Don't  pretend  to  ignore  your  powers,"  he  replied, 
beginning  to  pace  up  and  down.  "You  are,  on  the  con- 
trary, the  only  being  in  the  world  who  has  any  influence 
at  all;  but  circumstances  are  vastly  different  from  what 
you  believe  them  to  be." 

"Possibly,"  she  said,  gently;  "and  whatever  these 
circumstances  may  be,  I  am  here  to  hear  your  reasons 
for  causing  me  so  much  pain,  Loic." 

He  winced,  for  this  was  just  what  he  had  dreaded; 
he  was  about  to  cut  to  the  heart  this  little  sister  whom 
he  adored,  and  whom  he  had  not  seen  for  so  long. 

"Since  that  is  so,"  he  said,  vainly  attempting  to  speak 
as  calmly  as  she  did,  "  I  ask  you  before  we  go  any  further 
to  hear  patiently  what  I  have  to  tell  you.  Oh,  it  will 

396 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

not  take  long,"  he  continued,  with  inexpressible  bitter- 
ness. "In  an  hour  or  so  I  can  easily  show  you  what  a 
hash  I  have  made  of  it  all!" 

"Don't  speak  like  that!"  Gaidik  exclaimed.  "Do  you 
think  it  is  agreeable  for  me  to  hurt  you  like  this  imme- 
diately on  arriving?" 

' '  I  know !  I  know ! ' '  Loic  answered,  sorrowfully.  "  It  is  a 
bad  business  for  us  both ;  but  please,  please,  Gaidik,  listen 
indulgently  to  what  I  have  to  say,  for  I  want  you  to  know 
my  motives  for  doing  what  I  have  done,  and  we  must 
face  the  ordeal  as  best  we  can."  And  without  giving  him- 
self time  to  lose  courage,  he  at  once  began  the  recital  of 
all  that  had  befallen  him  since  his  return  from  the  United 
States,  doing  so  frankly,  simply,  and  without  a  single 
reticence. 

Gaidik  heard  in  absolute  silence.  She  did  not  once 
interrupt  him,  nor  did  she  comment  upon  what  he  was 
saying,  but  he  several  times  saw  her  lips  quiver  and  her 
eyes  fill  with  instantly  repressed  tears. 

"That  is  all?"  she  asked,  when  he  at  last  paused. 
"You  are  sure  that  you  forget  nothing?" 

"That  is  all,"  said  Loic,  "and  I  have  forgotten  noth- 
ing." 

She  rose,  came  close  to  him,  and,  laying  both  hands 
on  his  shoulders,  said,  with  a  pitiful  effort  to  control  the 
trembling  of  her  lips: 

"What  I  want  to  know  is  what  you  and  I  have  ever 
done  to  deserve  all  we  are  both  going  through.  Why 
couldn't  we  have  been  left  together  to  live  our  lives  side  by 
side  ?  None  of  this  should  have  ever  happened ;  but  ev- 
erybody seems  to  have  conspired  to  separate  us  by  plots 
and  lies  and  to  wreck  not  only  one  but  two  lives."  Her 
voice  broke  and  she  pressed  her  face  against  his  breast, 
fighting  hard  for  composure,  while  he,  afraid  to  speak 

397 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

lest  he  should  lose  all  self-control,  held  her  tightly  in  his 
arms.  For  a  few  seconds  they  remained  thus,  and  then 
Gaidik  raised  her  white  face,  and,  looking  deep  into  his 
eyes,  said,  pleadingly: 

"It  is  not  yet  too  late,  Loic.  Think  how  young  we 
both  are!  There  are  many,  many  years  still  before  us! 
Are  we  to  spend  them  apart  always  ?  Is  it  you  now  who 
are  deliberately  going  to  build  up  an  impassable  barrier 
between  us,  and  that  for  the  sake  of  a  woman  whom  you 
do  not  love,  for  whom  you  have  already  sacrificed  so 
much,  and  who  is  in  no  wise  worthy  of  you?" 

"And  what  about  the  child?" 

The  words  fell  like  lead  upon  Gaidik 's  heart.  She 
drew  away,  and  with  hands  clinched  together  so  violently 
that  her  rings  actually  cut  into  her  flesh,  moved  a  few 
paces  from  him. 

"Don't  make  it  too  hard  for  me,  Gaidik!"  Loic  ex- 
claimed, imploringly.  "Surely  you  do  not  want  me  to 
abandon  that  poor,  helpless  little  thing?" 

"No!"  Gaidik  replied,  resolutely;  "give  her  to  me! 
I  swear  to  you  that  I  shall  bring  her  up  as  if  she  were  my 
own,  and  that  she  will  never  know  what  it  is  to  be  mother- 
less. Surely  you  must  see  that  it  is  her  best  chance! 
Do  not  say  no,  my  darling,  my  darling!  We  have  al- 
ways been  all  in  all  to  each  other.  Listen  to  me  now! 
Don't  ruin  your  whole  life!  Can't  you  understand  that 
I'm  in  the  right,  that  you  have  carried  your  chivalrous 
behavior  towards  this  woman  already  too  far?" 

"And  you!"  he  cried,  desperately.  "Can't  you  see 
that  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  do  what  you  ask?" 

"Why?"  she  demanded,  bending  once  more  towards 
him,  tense  and  quivering  from  head  to  foot.  "Why?" 

"Because  she,  Rose,  will  not  consent  to  give  up  her 
child,  and  has  the  whip-hand  of  me  there ;  because  I  am 

398 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

caught,  trapped,  by  my  very  love  and  tenderness  for 
this  baby  that  she  knows  I  will  not  leave  behind." 

Gaidik  looked  at  him  in  infinite  distress.  "Oh!"  she 
said,  bitterly.  "So  that's  her  little  game,  is  it?  That's 
how  she  hopes  to  finally  force  you  to  marry  her!  And 
it  is  perchance  reserved  for  me  to  see  you,  Loic  de  Ker- 
goat,  the  brother  I  am  so  proud  of,  take  to  wife  this — " 
She  stopped,  afraid  of  giving  full  rein  to  her  rising  anger, 
and  in  a  tone  which  cut  him  like  a  knife,  she  continued: 
"Do  you  realize  that  this  would  be  the  first  mesalliance 
in  our  family  during  fourteen  hundred  years  ?  I  will  no 
longer  speak  of  myself,  since  that  seems  without  avail, 
but  of  your  own  responsibilities  towards  your  people, 
past  and  present.  That  may  serve  better!  Do  you 
really  mean  to  bring  disgrace  and  dishonor  upon  all  of 
us?  Even  a  marriage  would  repair  nothing!  At  best 
it  could  only  take  place  out  of  France,  and  be  but  a  dole- 
ful farce — a  thing  to  be  ashamed  of  for  ever  and  ever 
— since  you  will  never  obtain  Mamma's  indispensable 
consent." 

"You  forget,"  he  said,  gravely,  "that  there  is  very 
much  to  be  ashamed  of  on  both  sides!" 

"How!"  she  cried,  instantly  aglow  with  indignation. 
"You  have  something  to  be  ashamed  of  with  regard  to 
this  girl  ?  You  who  have  behaved  with  such  idiotic  unsel- 
fishness, who  have  accepted  for  her  sake  a  situation  which 
is  adequate  to  avenging  all  the  crimes  of  the  Borgias! 
Ah,  leave  me  alone,  you  seem  to  have  lost  all  power 
of  judgment!  I  know  you,  Loic,  you  have  persisted  in 
this  folly  chiefly  to  fight  your  mother's  machinations ;  had 
it  not  been  for  her,  or  had  I  been  there,  you  would  never 
have  begun  it  in  the  first  place!  It  will  be  my  eternal 
regret  that  I  was  not  there!  But  now  the  time  has  come 
to  act  sensibly  at  last!" 

399 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

"Don't  talk  to  me  of  my  mother!"  he  interrupted,  with 
a  violence  in  which  she  recognized  the  sting  of  a  home- 
thrust.  "The  way  she  has  acted  through  all  the  abomi- 
nable persecutions  she  directed  against  Rose  made  it 
impossible  for  me  not  to  stand  by  her.  Why,  had  I  not 
carried  her  off  by  main  force  from  La-Roche,  and  then 
from  France,  Madame  de  Kergoat  would  have,  thanks  to 
her  powerful  influences,  lodged  her  in  St.  Lazare,  and 
my  little  girl  would  have  been  born  in  a  den  of  fallen 
women,  thieves,  and  assassins." 

Gaidik  stamped  her  little  foot.  "But  all  this  is  now 
past!"  she  in  turn  interrupted.  "There  is  no  longer  any 
question  of  St.  Lazare.  You  can  provide  for  the  girl 
and  buy  off  the  baby.  Are  you  sure  you  are  not  still 
ready  to  sacrifice  us,  both  yourself  and  me,  to  the  satis- 
faction of  beating  your  mother  to  the  end  ?"  She  paused, 
sorry  to  have  been  betrayed  into  saying  that,  for,  after 
all,  this  was  their  first  hour  together  after  a  long,  weary 
separation,  and  she  could  not  bear  to  see  the  look  in  his 
eyes.  With  a  swift  repentance  she  slipped  to  her  knees 
before  him  where  he  sat,  as  once  many  years  before  in  her 
tower-room  at  Kergoat,  and,  nestling  close  to  him,  said, 
penitently:  "Forgive  me,  my  own  Fre"rot.  Don't  let  us 
talk  any  more  about  this,  for  the  present,  if  possible.  We 
must  not  spoil  this  first  evening  utterly.  To-morrow,  when 
we  have  thought  it  over  more,  it  will  be  time  enough. 
Just  now  we  are  both  overwrought  and  do  not  see  clearly." 

A  light  of  relief  crossed  Loic's  face.  He  kissed  her 
tenderly,  and,  smoothing  back  the  "honeylocks  "  he  loved 
so  well,  murmured: 

"Oh,  I'm  only  too  anxious  to  shelve  this  miserable 
question — at  least  for  the  present;  I  only  wish  I  could 
do  so  once  and  for  all,  for  I  cannot  endure  the  thought 
of  opposing  you,  my  own  Gaid — my  dearest  of  all — " 

400 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

There  was  a  long  silence. 

Their  nerves  were  so  fearfully  jangled  that  it  took  all 
their  will-power  to  cast  off  the  burden  of  the  situation, 
even  temporarily;  but  they  succeeded  during  the  next 
few  hours  in  conjuring  up,  after  a  fashion,  the  never-to- 
be-forgotten  days  of  their  childhood,  that  already  seemed 
so  long  ago,  and  nothing  save  an  occasional  indefinable 
tension  in  Loic's  attitude  or  a  strained  note  in  Gaidik's 
voice  really  recalled  to  them  the  grim  shadow  that  wait- 
ed outside  the  door.  This  one  evening  was  in  spite  of  it 
all  an  oasis  of  delight  to  both,  and  when  they  parted  her 
eyes  sought  his  with  a  misty  gaze  that  made  him  wince, 
and  he  felt  her  hands  clinging  to  his  with  a  desperate 
grip,  as  if  she  dreaded  this  would  be  the  last  of  their  old 
times  together,  and  she  would  never  have  him  for  her- 
self again. 

As  soon  as  he  had  gone  an  intense  grief  descended 
upon  the  poor  girl  and  swept  her  away  in  its  feverish 
mill-race  of  dreads  and  anxieties.  Knowing  her  brother 
as  well  as  she  did,  she  felt  a  sickening  sense  of  failure,  al- 
though the  decisive  discussion  had  been  postponed  until 
the  next  day.  She  faithfully  observed  her  promise  to 
go  to  bed  immediately,  but  only  found  a  vocal  darkness 
and  unprofitable  tossings,  and  when  at  length  a  weary 
slumber  came,  it  was  even  more  bitter  than  her  waking 
thoughts.  Again  and  again  she  started  from  tormented 
dreams.  Now  it  would  be  her  Fre*rot's  marble-white 
face  floating  amid  inky  waves,  with  closed  eyes  and  the 
blue,  pinched  look  of  death  about  the  lips  and  nostrils, 
that  tore  her  almost  with  a  shriek  from  her  pillows ;  now 
it  was  his  mangled  and  bleeding  body  that  was  dragged 
into  her  presence  by  a  woman  whose  face  she  vainly 
tried  to  see.  Again  and  again  she  sat  up  in  bed,  her 
heart  hammering  like  mad,  her  cheeks  covered  with 

401 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

tears,  and  finally,  as  the  first  streaks  of  the  mid-summer 
dawn  began  to  show  in  faint  tints  of  primrose  above  the 
trees  of  Hyde  Park,  she  rose,  and,  without  summoning 
her  maid,  bathed  and  dressed. 

No  longer  could  she  endure  the  indecision,  the  misery, 
the  gnawing  apprehension;  she  must  see  Loic,  and  that 
at  once.  The  thought  of  ever  putting  herself  into  open 
and  rancorous  antagonism  to  him  was  one  which  she 
could  not  endure,  and  yet  an  inward  suggestion,  often 
repressed,  told  her  that  she  was  pleading  a  hopeless 
cause.  Nevertheless,  the  matter  could  not  hang  in  the 
balance  any  longer;  one  way  or  the  other  it  must  be 
clinched  without  further  delay. 

Loic  had  appointed  to  meet  her  at  her  apartments  at 
noon,  but  she  ordered  the  carriage  to  drive  immediately  to 
Richmond,  in  which  vicinity  he  had  installed  himself  with 
Rose  and  the  baby.  As  she  paced  up  and  down,  waiting, 
her  burden  of  misery  was  suddenly  increased  by  another 
heavy  though^  which  had  already  grinned  at  her  from 
behind  his  chair  at  dinner  the  night  before.  She  had 
noticed  that  he,  formerly  the  most  abstemious  of  men, 
who,  save  for  a  few  boyish  frolics,  had  never  taken  a 
glass  of  wine  beyond  a  very  moderate  allowance,  and,  in 
spite  of  his  Western  experiences,  scarcely  ever  touched 
spirits,  had  drunk  far  more  deeply  than  she  had  ever  seen 
him.  The  de  Kergoats  were  famed  for  the  steadiness  of 
their  heads,  and  Loic,  their  worthy  descendant,  had  not — 
as  the  phrase  goes —  "turned  a  hair,"  but  still,  now  that 
she  came  to  think  of  it,  the  quantity  he  had  taken 
was  disquieting,  whether  one  looked  upon  it  as  a  mat- 
ter of  regular  habit  or  merely  as  a  bracer  taken  on  oc- 
casion. 

At  that  thought  Gaidik,  the  self-controlled  and  calm, 
fell  into  a  bottomless  gulf  of  despair.  Was  his  association 

402 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

with  that  woman  going  to  make  him  turn  to  such  a  means 
of  consolation  and  comfort?  What  was  to  be  done? 
How  should  she  act  in  order  to  extricate  him  from  all 
this  net-work  of  dangers  ?  Her  reasonable  mind  no  longer 
made  itself  heard,  and  amplifying  her  former  forebodings 
she  conjured  up  the  most  fearful  pictures  of  his  future, 
shuddering  at  each  new  creature  of  her  imagination,  until 
their  very  extravagance  brought  a  reaction. 

"This  comes  from  having  had  a  bad  night  and  no 
breakfast!"  she  muttered,  wrathfully.  Surely  she  had 
been  temporarily  mad  to  think  even  for  an  instant  that 
her  Loic,  her  own  plucky  Frerot,  could  ever  fall  so  low  as 
that!  How  shamefully  she  had  insulted  him  in  letting 
her  thoughts  dwell  on  such  impossibilities,  and,  thorough- 
ly disgusted  with  herself,  she  hastened  to  her  carriage  and 
drove  away. 

It  was  glorious  weather,  and  even  London,  the  fog- 
centre  of  Europe,  for  once  allowed  nature  to  have  her  own 
sweet  way.  As  the  inconceivable  meanness  of  the  city 
streets  fell  behind  the  swiftly  trotting  horses,  Gaidik  felt 
herself  gradually  revive.  Perhaps,  after  all,  matters  were 
not  so  desperate.  In  a  very  little  while  she  would  see 
Loic,  and  what  might  not  all  her  arts  of  persuasion,  back- 
ed by  a  great  love,  accomplish  ?  As  for  the  extreme  un- 
conventionality  of  her  going  to  hunt  him  up  at  this,  his 
more  than  unofficial  home,  such  a  trifle  did  not  weigh 
with  her  just  then  more  than  a  feather. 

The  place  where  Loic  had  pitched  his  temporary  tent 
lay  well  away  from  the  coach-road,  some  miles  from  any 
railway  station,  and  nestled  cosily  on  the  flank  of  a  gorse 
and  heather  covered  hill — which  reminded  Gaidik  de- 
liciously  of  Brittany — crowned  by  a  pine  forest.  The 
house  itself  was  an  old  manorial  dwelling,  a  graceful  suc- 
cession of  rose-garlanded  gables  built  of  white-faced  red 

403 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

brick  beautifully  toned  by  age,  and  surrounded  by  broad 
terraces  overlooking  a  blossoming  park. 

From  the  lodge-gates  the  ground  rose  rapidly  across 
sweeping  lawns  dotted  with  clumps  of  rhododendrons, 
and  as  Gaidik  was  swiftly  driven  along  she  caught  sight 
of  a  much  beribboned  nurse  wearing  the  gorgeous  costume 
of  a  Bourguignonne  Nounou,  walking  with  stately  dig- 
nity beneath  the  trees  and  bearing  in  her  arms  her  lace- 
swathed  nursling.  This  made  her  heart  bound  in  her 
breast — Loic's  first-born — poor,  little,  innocent  baby,  the 
chief  cause  of  all  her  distress  and  of  his!  She  bit  her  lips 
and  resolutely  turned  her  eyes  away,  bringing  them  to  bear 
upon  a  footman  who,  at  the  approach  of  the  carriage,  was 
hurrying  down  the  terrace  steps  to  meet  it.  There  was 
profound  astonishment  in  this  personage's  eyes,  in  spite 
of  his  well-trained  rigidity  of  mien ;  evidently  visitors  of 
her  type  were  not  habitual  here,  and  it  was  with  profound 
deference  that  he  expressed  his  regrets  at  his  master's 
absence.  Indeed,  his  Lordship  had  been  gone  since  yes- 
terday at  noon,  and  had  left  no  word  as  to  the  hour  of  his 
return.  Gaidik  felt  for  a  second  the  whole  force  of  the 
adage  about  hope  deferred,  but  suddenly  had  another 
thought.  After  a  moment's  hesitation:  "Then  is  her — 
her — Ladyship  at  home?"  "Her  Ladyship" — the  words 
forced  themselves  with  extraordinary  difficulty  from  the 
Grand  Dame's  lips,  but  the  die  was  now  cast;  she 
would  see  this  thorny  Rose  who  had  torn  so  many  lives, 
and  as  in  response  to  the  evidently  amazed  assent  of  the 
powdered-headed  official  she  alighted  and  followed  him 
into  a  thickly  carpeted  hall,  she  murmured  under  her 
breath,  "Allah!  c'  etait  ecrit!" 

Two  more  footmen  rushed  to  the  assistance  of  their 
colleague,  in  order  to  usher  her  with  proper  ceremony 
into  the  drawing-room,  where  she  calmly  awaited  Mile. 

404 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

Rose  Billot!  The  apartment  was  spacious  and  luxuri- 
ously furnished,  but  Gaidik  noticed  there  a  certain  je  ne 
sais  quoi,  which  displeased  her.  To  begin  with,  there 
were  no  flowers  either  in  the  deep  embrasures  nor  on 
any  one  of  the  tables  and  consoles;  a  gaudy  bonbon-box 
lay  upon  the  floor  surrounded  by  a  shower  of  multi- 
colored fondants;  the  cushions  of  the  sofa  were  disar- 
ranged; on  the  chairs  and  lounges  were  scattered  mag- 
azines, books,  and  other  trifles  which  certainly  had  no 
business  there;  and  one  of  the  handsome  lace  window- 
curtains  was  looped  back  in  the  middle  with  a  common 
hair-pin!  At  this  last  damning  piece  de  conviction, 
Gaidik's  shoulders  went  up  with  a  little  shrug  of  pity, 
and  turning  away  she  almost  fell  over  an  open  guitar- 
case  wherein  two  little  white  kittens  were  struggling  for 
the  possession  of  a  chop-bone. 

"Careless  servants,"  she  commented;  "pompous  but 
— decidedly  careless,  which  is  strange  in  England,  where 
servants  are  generally  good.  But  those  can't  be  blamed, 
after  all,"  she  concluded,  with  that  little  smile  of  well- 
bred  cynicism  which  is  the  despair  and  envy  of  the 
parvenu.  And  then  she  added,  softly,  in  a  vastly  dif- 
ferent tone,  a  "Poor  Loic!"  which  brought  tears  to  her 
eyes. 

One  always  sees  with  delight  a  skilled  swordsman 
take  up  the  foil,  and  had  there  been  an  observer  hidden 
behind  that  hair-pin-looped  curtain  he  would  have  keen- 
ly enjoyed  the  sight  of  Gaidik,  as  hearing  a  sudden  rustle 
of  silk  against  the  closed  door,  she  mechanically  squared 
her  shoulders  and  faced  round,  looking  straight  in  front 
of  her  with  that  perfect  self-possession  which  is  in-bred, 
not  acquired.  Presently,  after  what  seemed  an  unneces- 
sarily long  interval,  the  door  opened  slowly,  hesitatingly, 
and  Gaidik  became  vaguely  conscious  of  a  desire  to  smile, 

405 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

for  there  entered  a  girl  dressed  in  the  latest  fashion;  no 
furbished-up  gown  from  the  hands  of  a  provincial  dress- 
maker, or  ready-made  frock  purchased  at  a  more  or  less 
expensive  shop,  but  a  unique  creation  from  some  great 
couturier,  a  sumptuous  azure  satin  affair  which  might 
have  been  worn  by  a  Queen  for  a  Royal  five-o'clock  tea; 
and  the  practised  flash  of  Gaidik's  experienced  eyes  saw 
that  it  had  been  hastily  donned  to  dazzle  her,  and  was 
carelessly  buttoned  over  a  crushed  and  crumpled  night- 
rail!  The  brown  hair  surmounting  the  insignificant  face 
was  more  than  allowably  tousled  and  was  garnished  with 
a  delicious  little  morning-cap  of  lace  and  pale-blue  gauze, 
which  had  seen  already  too  much  service  not  to  be 
shamed  by  the  unworn  brilliancy  of  that  turquoise-hued 
tea-gown.  The  observer  behind  the  curtain  would  have 
laughed  out  loud  if  death  itself  were  to  be  the  penalty 
of  his  indiscretion,  so  ludicrous  was  the  contrast  between 
this  intempestive  finery  and  the  extraordinary  chic  and 
fitness  of  Gaidik's  plain,  biscuit-colored  batiste,  graceful 
hat  wreathed  with  pale  lime  -  blossoms,  long,  tan  suede 
gloves,  and  little  brown  shoes  peeping  forth  from  the 
delicate  frou-frous  of  a  Valenciennes  petticoat. 

There  is  nothing  so  disquieting  as  the  unknown  motive, 
which  disquietude  may  be  pardoned  in  Rose  as  she  ad- 
vanced towards  her  unexpected  visitor.  She  saw  at  a 
glance — so  great  was  their  likeness — that  this  must  be 
Loic's  sister,  and  yet  her  presence  there  was  so  stupefy- 
ing that  she  was  unable  to  bring  herself  to  believe  it 
possible. 

This  doubt  was  easily  read  by  Gaidik,  and  in  a  perfect- 
ly natural  tone  she  said,  courteously: 

"I  must  introduce  myself.  I  am  Monsieur  de  Ker- 
goat's  sister." 

Rose  winced.  "Monsieur  de  Kergoat!"  Why  did  she 

406 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

not  say  "Loic  "  ?  But  she  tried  to  conceal  her  embarrass- 
ment, and,  indicating  a  chair,  asked  rather  too  off-hand- 
edly: 

"Won't  you  sit  down?" 

That  Gaidik  hesitated  only  for  the  fraction  of  a  second 
before  accepting  the  proffered  seat  must  be  placed  to 
her  credit.  As  she  did  so,  a  strong  whiff  of  the  scent 
Rose  used  reached  her  nostrils,  and  she  gulped;  it  was 
musk,  that  parfum  par  excellence  du  trottoir,  and  her  feel- 
ing of  dislike  for  the  girl  grew  into  instant  repugnance ! 

"I  am  here  this  morning — rather  too  early,  I  fear — to 
see  my  brother;  but  hearing  that  he  was  absent,  I  thought 
it  best  to  ask  you  to  receive  me,"  she  said,  gently,  never- 
theless, and  without  a  trace  of  hauteur  or  coldness.  Rose 
was  nervously  twirling  the  long  ribbons  of  her  magnifi- 
cent sash,  and  the  very  softness  of  the  tone  made  her 
feel  uneasy,  for  reasons  of  her  own.  Loic  also  had  the 
secret  of  it,  and  it  always  seemed  to  open  unbridgeable 
gulfs  between  them  when  he  used  it. 

.  "It  is  very  kind  of  you  to  have  come,"  she  said,  awk- 
wardly.    "Would  you  like  to  see  Baby?" 

This  was  a  facer.  Gaidik  read  the  girl  too  well  to 
imagine  for  an  instant  that  this  acceptation  of  her  pres- 
ence as  though  she  had  come  to  pay  a  polite  visit  was 
purposely  put  forward;  that  would  have  been  far  too 
clever  a  move  for  such  as  she.  No,  it  was  certainly  sheer, 
cowlike  stupidity,  but  it  staggered  the  woman  of  the 
world  none  the  less  for  a  fleeting  instant. 

"Pardon  me,"  she  said,  extinguishing  from  her  voice 
all  the  apparent  good -will  of  her  premiere  -  maniere ,  "I 
have  asked  to  see  you  simply  in  order  to  tell  you  a  few 
things  which  it  is  necessary  for  you  to  know." 

"Oh,"  Rose  said,  sullenly,  "I  can  guess  what  it's 
about!  You'd  like  to  separate  me  from  Loic!" 

407 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

"I  would  scarcely  have  put  it  so  bluntly,"  Gaidik  re- 
plied, perfectly  unruffled,  "but  since  you  take  it  that 
way,  I  am  entirely  ready  to  state  that  this  is  exactly 
why  I  have  come  to  London  from  half  across  the  world." 

"I  thought  so,"  Rose  sneered,  with  an  attempt  at  im- 
pertinence which  even  in  her  own  eyes  was  completely 
foiled  by  the  other's  imperturable  calm. 

"Pray  let  us  leave  acrimony  out  of  this  discussion.  I 
have  no  ill-feelings  towards  you  personally;  I  know  all 
you  have  gone  through,  and  am  sorry  for  you;  but  still 
this  does  not  alter  the  fact  that  you  are  hopelessly  ruin- 
ing my  brother's  life." 

"I  don't  see  why  you  say  that!"  Rose  exclaimed. 
"He  is  not  the  first  great  gentleman  to  have  a  liaison." 

"Certainly  not!"  Gaidik  acquiesced.  "But  this  par- 
ticular case  is  different,  for  if  my  brother  persists  in  living 
with  you  it  means  his  breaking  forever  with  his  family, 
his  friends,  his  entire  milieu.  It  also  means  his  con- 
demning himself  to  absolute  isolation,  and  his  risking  to 
be  saddled  with  a  Conseil  Judiciaire,  which  will  deprive 
him  for  many  years  of  the  control  of  the  greater  part  of 
his  money.  Do  you  follow  me?" 

Rose,  sitting  bolt  upright,  was  staring  incredulously 
at  her  visitor.  This  was  a  woman  whose  words  com- 
manded respect.  Had  she,  Rose,  then  been  lulling  herself 
into  false  security  ?  She  could  scarcely  treat  such  a  warn- 
ing with  contempt.  Her  pink  -  and  -  white  complexion 
slowly  turned  gray,  yet  she  strove  to  hold  her  ground, 
and  although  her  voice  shook  a  little,  she  said,  with  as- 
sumed confidence: 

"It  will  never  come  to  that!  His  mother  wouldn't 
dare!" 

"Yet  that  is  precisely  what  she  is  now  trying  to  do  as 
a  last  means  to  her  end;  indeed,  had  it  not  been  for  our 

408 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

aunt  de  Brielle  and  the  Comte  de  Kergoat,  the  thing 
would  in  all  probability  have  been  already  accomplished." 

Gaidik  spoke  without  the  least  passion  or  emphasis ;  she 
was  merely  stating  facts  which  could  speak  for  them- 
selves with  a  terrible  significance.  Rose  fidgeted  uneasily 
in  her  chair,  stole  a  side-long  glance  at  her  adversary, 
and  suddenly  her  pale  eyes  flaming  with  malice,  she  said, 
brutally : 

"I  am  not  holding  Loic  by  force.  If  he  is  willing  to 
leave  me  and  to  give  up  his  child,  of  course  we  must  go." 

Gaidik  looked  curiously  at  her.  She  felt  the  thrust, 
but  her  voice  was  cruelly  indifferent  as  she  replied: 

"Precisely!  I  quite  understand  that  your  child  is 
your  sharpest  weapon.  However — "  She  did  not  finish 
the  sentence,  for  unfortunately  the  door  was  pushed 
open  and  the  imposing  Nounou,  carrying  her  nursling, 
strode  unceremoniously  in.  With  an  exclamation  of  re- 
lief Rose,  conscious  of  her  opportunity,  ran  towards  her, 
snatched  the  baby  from  her  arms,  and,  dismissing  her 
with  a  curt  word,  rushed  back  to  Gaidik,  saying,  tri- 
umphantly : 

"Do  you  think  he  will  give  that  up  easily?" 

She  had  pushed  aside  the  long  lace  veils,  and,  holding 
the  white  chrysalis  towards  Gaidik,  she  continued:  "He 
is  so  proud  of  her,  and  he  always  says  that  she  is  the 
image  of  you!  I  can  see  now  that  it  is  true!" 

Mechanically,  Gaidik  took  the  soft,  warm  bundle  and 
gazed  with  a  strange  blending  of  delight  and  pain  at  the 
loveliest  baby -girl  she  had  ever  seen.  Yes,  it  looked 
ridiculously  like  her,  and  like  Loic,  too;  there  was  abso- 
lutely nothing  "  Billotesque  "  in  those  extraordinarily  and 
prematurely  formed  features.  The  large,  gray  eyes, 
cherubically  thoughtful  and  grave ;  the  delicately  aquiline 
nose — an  unheard  of  thing  in  the  generality  of  babies; 
a?  409 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

the  firmly  arched  lips — nay,  even  the  fine  little  curling 
tendrils  of  silky,  copper-hued  hair  peeping  forth  beneath 
the  lace  hood — were  purely  Kergoat,  and  Kergoat  at  its 
best! 

Gaidik  gazed  and  gazed  at  the  small  face  as  if  both 
Loic's  fate  and  her  own  were  written  there,  and  Rose, 
who  watched  her  with  catlike  attention,  guessed  the 
meaning  of  the  suspicious  moisture  gathering  in  the 
eyes  so  much  like  her  Baby's,  but  scarcely  the  iron  self- 
control  which  prevented  that  moisture  from  becoming 
tears. 

"We  have  called  her  after  you,"  she  said,  coaxingly, 
"although  as  yet  we  say  Kikette —  that's  more  baby- 
like";  and  bending  close  over  the  little  one,  she  snapped 
her  unpleasantly  square-tipped  white  fingers,  crooning  in 
the  nasal  tones  which  some  women  deem  it  necessary  to 
adopt  when  speaking  to  infants: 

"Allans  Kikette  faites  risette  a  Tantante!" 

Gaidik  in  her  amazement  nearly  dropped  her  light  bur- 
den; and  yet,  yes,  this  was  really  her  niece — her  own 
flesh  and  blood;  there  could  be  no  doubt  about  that! 
Indeed,  so  great  was  the  spell  of  that  baby -beauty,  so 
enthralling  the  throng  of  memories,  of  yearning  emotions 
that  looked  up  at  her  out  of  those  solemn  baby  eyes, 
that  she  almost  forgot  the  incongruity  of  the  thing  and 
hardly  heard  Rose  chattering  tirelessly  on. 

"Isn't  she  lovely?  I'm  sure,  if  her  grandmother  once 
saw  her,  she'd  forgive  Loic  at  once,"  that  silly  young 
woman  at  last  concluded. 

This  roused  Gaidik.  She  looked  keenly  at  the  girl, 
again  wondering  whether  this  was  clever  insolence;  but 
no,  the  wheedling  voice  was  corroborated  by  the  nervous 
attitude  and  the  embarrassed  eyes  that  fell  before  her 
own.  It  was  only  another  shift  of  an  ignorant,  over- 

410 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

awed  woman,  uncertain  of  her  ground,  and  vacillating 
between  propitiation  and  defiance. 

"Ah,  you  want  my  brother  to  marry  you!"  she  said, 
coldly,  drawing  back  a  step.  Her  heart  was  like  lead,  for 
the  sight  of  that  adorable  baby  made  it  clear  to  her  how 
fast  Loic  was  held,  and  marriage,  alas!  seemed  no  longer 
such  an  utter  impossibility. 

Rose  flushed  crimson.  "No!"  she  said,  angrily.  "No! 
No!  That,  never!" 

"Oh-h-h!"  murmured  Gaidik,  and  that  was  all. 

The  silence  that  followed  was  as  tense  as  if  something 
in  the  atmosphere  was  about  to  snap.  It  lasted  only  a 
moment,  but  long  enough  for  Gaidik  to  see  as  by  the 
sudden  flash  of  a  search-light,  or  as  if  a  heavy  veil  had 
suddenly  become  transparent,  leaving  the  girl's  motives 
bare,  and  Rose  felt  that  it  was  so! 

"You  fancy  that  you  hold  him  more  securely  as  things 
are,  thanks  to  that  poor,  little,  dishonored  child?"  Gaidik 
asked  at  last.  For  the  first  time  there  was  something 
in  the  low,  level  tones  that  cut  like  the  lash  of  a 
whip. 

Rose  did  not  answer;  she  was  looking  attentively  at 
the  carpet  and  seemed  to  be  counting  the  flowers  woven 
into  its  rich  texture. 

"You  think  that  you  hold  him  more  securely  thus?" 
repeated  Gaidik. 

"No!  No!"  Rose  muttered,  feebly;  she  was  paralyzed 
by  a  feeling  that  was  quite  new  to  her — the  horrid 
sensation  that  something  had  gone  from  her,  her  power 
to  hoodwink,  to  misrepresent,  to  resort  to  subterfuge. 
Her  strongest,  indeed,  her  only  shield  had  fallen  before 
Gaidik's  penetrating  eyes,  and,  thoroughly  disarmed,  she 
instinctively  made  a  little,  appealing  gesture  towards  her 
adversary  that,  however  much  it  might  have  influenced 

411 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

Loic,  was  quite  thrown  away  upon  his  sister.  Then,  sud- 
denly recollecting  herself: 

"It's — it's — not  true!"  she  cried,  breathlessly,  fright 
and  anger  making  her  voice  shake.  "Besides,  you  have 
no  business  to — to — try  and  turn  me  inside  out  like  that. 
You  have  no  right — you  are  cruel  and  unjust.  I  don't 
even  know  what  you  mean  with  all  those  finasseries!" 

"Oh  yes,  you  do,"  said  Gaidik,  inexorably;  "you  are  a 
very  shrewd  young  woman  in  your  little  way!  You  have 
found  out  that  once  married  he  would  wield  absolute 
power  over  you  and  your  child,  and  in  the  paltriness  of 
your  soul,  in  the  smallness  of  your  trust  in  him,  you 
imagine  that  he  would  then  discard  you  and  keep  his 
little  daughter.  I  do  not  compliment  you  on  your 
point  of  view." 

Rose  was  now  gasping  like  a  swimmer  in  stormy  waters. 
She  had  not  even  the  presence  of  mind  to  resume  her 
seat,  but  remained  awkwardly  standing  before  her  ac- 
cuser. "It's  not  true!"  she  cried  again,  defiantly. 

"Why,  you  have  already  admitted  it,"  was  the  cold 
reply.  "You  will  neither  marry  him  nor  relinquish  him. 
Do  you  expect  me  under  such  circumstances  to  refrain 
from  throwing  my  weight  into  the  balance  against  you?" 

"I  don't  care!"  Rose  exclaimed  again,  suddenly  re- 
lapsing into  the  manners  of  the  home  circle  at  the  Par- 
fumerie  Lierre.  "  If  you  do,  you'll  lose  what's  left  to  you 
of  Loic.  Had  he  loved  you  really,  d'  you  think  he  would 
have  run  off  with  me  ?  But  you  were  thousands  of  miles 
away  attending  to  your  own  affairs.  What  do  you  come 
now  and  try  to  interfere  for?  It's  too  late;  he  is  mine. 
I  love  him,  and  I'll  keep  him!" 

Gaidik  was  smiling,  but  there  was  something  in  that 
frosty  little  smile  that  made  Rose  pause. 

"So  that  is  what  you  call  love?"  Gaidik  said,  mechani- 

412 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

cally  tightening  her  hold  upon  the  baby,  now  crowing 
happily  against  her  shoulder.  "You  know  that  you  are 
dooming  both  your  child  and  your  child's  father  to  abso- 
lute misery,  and  yet  you  can  talk  of  love!"  She  rose 
from  her  chair,  kissed  Kikette's  soft  little  face  tenderly 
before  handing  her  back  to  her  mother,  and  continued: 
"If  you  loved  him  you  would  set  him  free  and  let  me 
bring  up  this  little  one.  It  seems  much  to  ask,  perhaps, 
and  before  seeing  you  I  might  have  hesitated  to  demand 
such  a  sacrifice,  but  now  I  read  you  too  well  to  think  that 
it  is  your  heart  that  is  concerned  in  all  this.  f  You  would 
not  cling  very  long  to  my  brother  if  he  were  penniless, 
and  if,  imbittered  by  the  consequences  of  his  folly,  he  no 
longer  treated  you  with  that  chivalrousness  which  is  so 
new  to  you.  Remember  that  we  are  ready  to  give  you 
a  fortune  if  you  will  do  as  I  say,  a  fortune  which  will 
enable  you  to  lead  a  free  and  happy  life  wherever  you 
wish.  It  would  be  better  for  you,  after  all,  to  do  this 
than  to  drag  him  down  to  ruin,  for  what  will  you  have 
then?" 

"  I  don't  believe  a  word  you  say.  You're  only  trying 
to  frighten  me!"  Rose  muttered,  sullenly. 

"  I  am  not.  I  am  offering  you  your  only  chance  under 
the  circumstances.  A  demand  for  marriage  I  could 
have  understood,  but  your  cold-blooded  calculations  are 
beyond  me.  You  know  that  your  only  hold  upon  my 
brother  is  through  this  child,  and  you  think  by  such  means 
to  play  fast  for  him  and  loose  for  yourself.  Believe  me, 
you  will  earn  your  own  punishment,"  and  with  a  slight 
inclination  of  the  head  she  turned  towards  the  door. 

"Don't  go  like  that!"  the  terrified  Rose  cried,  trying 
to  bar  the  way.  She  would  have  given  much  to  know 
what  this  cold-faced,  impassive  woman  was  about  to  do. 

"Why  not?"  Gaidik  asked,  pausing  for  a  second. 

413 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

"We  have,  I  think,  nothing  further  to  tell  each  other.  If 
you  change  your  mind,  pray  remember  that  our  offer 
stands  good,  and  that,  personally  speaking,  no  sacrifice 
will  be  too  great  for  me  to  make  for  my  brother's  sake." 
Then,  without  another  word,  she  passed  out  of  the 
room  to  her  waiting  carriage.  It  was  characteristic  of 
her  that,  although  she  walked  slowly,  she  never  turned 
her  head. 


3800ft   HID 


CHAPTER   XXI 

O  thou  Hesperia,  latest  sprung  of  all 

The  sea-born  sirens,  richly  dowered  heir 

Of  gracious  legend — far  Homeric  isles 

Avalon  and  Atlantis — ah,  too  oft 

Nearer  approachment  doth  reveal  in  thee 

All  the  stern  lineaments  of  thy  rugged  sire, 

The  swart  sky-bearer  of  the  Afric  shore, 

Whom  the  swift  hero  with  the  Gorgon's  head, 

Turned  to  ridg'd  granite  overgrown  with  pines! 

Henceforth  should  they  who  would  adventure  them 

To  win  thy  golden  apples,  think  upon 

Thy  guardian  dragon,  and  their  limbs  endue 

With  mightiest  mail  and  strength  of  Heracles. 

M.  M. 

THE  pretty,  sunlit  rooms  looked  upon  one  of  the  most 
pleasant  views  in  New  York.  From  the  parlor  win- 
dows one  could  see  the  silver-gray  waters  of  the  Harlem 
River  winding  slowly  and  silently  down  towards  the 
huge  city,  between  its  abrupt  green  banks  spanned  by 
the  towering  white  piers  of  the  Aqueduct  and  the  bold, 
steel  arch  of  Washington  Bridge — banks  just  then  tufted 
with  soft-foliaged  trees  and  bathed  in  the  warm,  mellow 
glow  of  spring. 

The  flat  on  the  upper  floor  of  a  handsome  new  house, 
built  entirely  of  gleaming  white  stone,  was  comfortably, 
even  elegantly,  furnished,  and  in  the  dainty  hues  of  the 
curtains  and  carpets,  the  chaste  shapes  of  the  tables, 
chairs,  and  lounges,  one  could  easily  trace  the  taste  of  a 
well-trained  and  well-bred  purchaser.  There  were  but 

417 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

few  pictures  on  the  cartridge-papered  walls,  but  these 
pictures  were  all  good — a  few  proof -engravings,  two  or 
three  masterly  water-colors,  a  marine  scene  in  sepia,  on 
each  side  of  the  chimney-piece  a  couple  of  exquisite  min- 
iatures of  the  eighteenth  century,  and  between  two  win- 
dows the  magnificent  pastel  portrait  of  a  woman  in  Court 
dress,  surmounted  by  a  Ducal  Crown. 

This  for  the  parlor.  The  dining-room  was  finished  in 
light  oak,  and  on  the  carven  sideboard  and  narrow  side- 
tables  were  some  pieces  of  massive  antique  silverware, 
and  a  few  choice  bits  of  almost  transparent  porcelain 
and  gorgeous  Faienza,  which  had  certainly  not  first  seen 
daylight  either  on  those  shores  or  during  our  era.  The 
two  bedrooms,  too,  had  an  aspect  entirely  uncommon 
to  New  York  flats,  the  toilet-set  basking  on  the  bureau 
of  that  occupied  by  the  master  of  this  small  but  surpris- 
ingly dainty  establishment  was  of  ebony,  with  heavy 
gold  monograms  and  Marquis's  coronets ;  and  was  further 
characterized  by  a  wealth  of  ivory  boot -jacks,  expensive 
boot-trees,  teak-wood  whip-stands,  a  couple  of  tiger-skins, 
against  which  were  fastened  trophies  of  costly  arms,  and 
a  bewildering  confusion  of  box-spurs,  hunting-stirrups, 
curb-chains,  silver  and  gold  mounted  flasks,  riding-sticks 
of  astonishing  variety,  and  an  array  of  tall  boots,  denot- 
ing better  than  any  words  could  do  the  favorite  occupa- 
tion of  their  owner. 

The  apartment,  in  fact,  was  as  odd  as  it  was  picturesque 
— a  high  degree  of  merit  in  our  levelling  and  vulgar  age ; 
and  to  live  in  it  would  scarcely  have  been  a  penance  to 
any  one — even  a  person  accustomed  to  much  grander 
dwellings — had  it  not  been  for  many  things  that  will 
hereafter  be  explained. 

Trotting  back  and  forth  from  one  room  to  another,  on 
tiny,  slippered  feet,  or  teasing  the  big  hound  that  lay  in 

418 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

statuesque  repose  upon  the  hearth-rug,  a  lovely  baby 
girl,  with  great,  gray  eyes  and  a  halo  of  ruddy  silken  curls, 
was  pouring  out  a  rapid  series  of  prettily  lisped  ques- 
tions in  French  to  her  mother,  who,  leaning  against  one 
of  the  parlor  windows,  was  lazily  watching,  between  dis- 
mally prolonged  yawns,  the  glory  of  the  setting  sun  il- 
luminating with  all  the  fires  of  a  general  conflagration  the 
million  windows  of  Harlem,  New  York,  and  even,  like  tiny 
points  of  flame,  the  distant  factories  of  Long  Island  City. 

She  turned  as  a  woolly  head  and  a  print-enwrapped 
pair  of  shoulders  were  thrust  through  the  half -open  door 
leading  into  the  passage,  and  a  "black  but  comely"  ser- 
vant-girl inquired,  in  accents  worthy  of  Brer  Remus  him- 
self, whether  "de  Boss  wus  gahn  to  be  home  foh  dinnah." 

"You  meen  my  'usband?"  quoth  the  lady,  languidly, 
moving  towards  her. 

"Yes'm,  Is'poseso!" 

"I  doo  not  know  ven  'e  come,"  again  drawled  Madame, 
in  the  most  uncertain  of  Franco-Saxon;  and,  as  with  a 
scream  of  delight  her  little  daughter  rushed  away  in  the 
wake  of  Dinah's  flying  pink  skirts  and  white  apron,  she 
resumed  her  all-absorbing  occupation  of  yawns  and  gaz- 
ings  until  the  gold  and  rose  slowly  died  out  of  land  and 
sky  and  twilight  shed  its  gray  ashes  upon  the  world. 
Then  she  woke  with  a  start  from  the  dull  reverie  which 
had  kept  her  so  long  at  the  window,  and,  scratching  a 
match,  taken  from  a  delicious  little  burnished  -  silver 
stand,  against  the  side  of  a  highly  polished  and  engaging- 
ly new  bookcase,  turned  on  the  gas  of  the  chandelier 
and  flooded  the  place  with  brilliance. 

"Kikette!  Kikette!"  she  called,  and,  receiving  no 
answer,  she  dragged  herself  to  the  kitchen,  where,  seated 
on  a  low  chair  beside  Dinah,  the  little  girl  was  playing 
with  a  lapful  of  green  pease  and  listening  in  wide-eyed 

419 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

delight  to  the  story  of  "De  possum  dat  had  gawn  to  de 
frolic." 

The  child's  supper  of  bread  and  milk  and  soft-boiled 
eggs  having  been  duly  administered,  her  nightly  toilet 
performed,  and  she  having  thereupon  been  tucked  into 
her  cosey  little  bed,  in  spite  of  many  tearful  protests  and 
passionate  prayers  to  be  allowed  to  wait  up  for  "dear, 
sweet  Papa,"  Rose,  the  evening  being  cool,  sat  down 
by  the  bright  flames  of  the  parlor  gas-log  and  resumed  her 
eternal  and  profitless  dreams. 

That  she  should  be  unoccupied  was  no  unusual  thing, 
nor  was  she  unaccustomed  to  being  alone,  yet  there 
was  something  dissatisfied  and  sullen  about  her  face,  and 
she  cast  now  and  then  nervous  little  glances  over  her 
shoulder  as  if  apprehensive  of  something. 

Everything  had  been  going  wrong,  from  money  up- 
ward, with  her  and  Loic,  and  since  their  arrival  in  New 
York — bringing  along  what  capital  he  had  been  able  to 
scrape  together  from  that  wreck  of  his  finances  so  truly 
prophesied  by  Gaidik — disappointments  and  embarrass- 
ments had  gathered  thickly  around  them. 

It  was  altogether  Loic's  fault,  Rose  thought  in  her 
gentle  gratitude;  but  she  was  past  finding  consolation  in 
this  reflection  —  her  usual  solace!  She  had  no  faith  in 
his  power  of  remaking  a  fortune  with  horses  —  horses 
even  as  a  means  of  livelihood  were  more  than  ever  de- 
testable to  her — and  she  would  have  liked  him  to  invest 
the  poor  little  nest-egg  lying  at  a  Wall  Street  bank  in 
some  more  solid  commercial  venture,  but  he  was  absurdly 
proud,  was  Loic — according  to  her  ideas,  at  least — and 
strongly  opposed  to  her  views  of  the  case.  He  had  told 
her  with  his  brave  smile  to  make  herself  quite  happy, 
to  leave  things  to  him,  and  to  go  on  living  in  what  com- 
fort he  could  procure  for  her  and  Kikette  while  he  be- 

420 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

stirred  himself,  a  statement  which  she  had  greeted  with 
a  mournful  sigh  and  a  deluge  of  apprehensive  tears,  end- 
ing in  a  "Dieu  merci!  your  mother  can't  live  forever  with 
her  delicate  health !"  which  had  brought  about  her  ears  a 
long-remembered  flare  of  the  celebrated  Kergoat  temper. 

This  was  soon  after  their  arrival  in  America,  at  a  time 
when  their  affairs  were  behaving  in  a  peculiarly  mercurial 
and  distressing  fashion,  and  when,  still  bewildered  by  the 
novelty  of  everything  around  her,  she  was  convinced  that 
they  would  have  done  better  to  have  remained  in  Europe, 
and,  even  at  the  cost  of  every  conceivable  humiliation,  to 
have  accepted  the  help  of  those  among  his  family  and 
friends  who  were  still  ready  to  proffer  it. 

In  fact,  the  humiliation  was  not  obvious  to  her  mind 
at  all,  only  to  Loic's.  "Look  here,  Rose,"  he  had  said, 
"Gaidik  is  the  only  human  being  from  whom,  if  matters 
ever  come  to  that  point,  I  shall  consent  to  take  a  sou. 
In  the  mean  while  I  do  not  propose  to  play  the  part  of 
poor  relation  and  to  take  a  back  seat  on  the  scene  of  my 
former  affluence.  Here  in  America — which  is  the  land 
for  people  of  daring  and  energy — I  can  work  and  await 
the  time  when  the  clouds  will  roll  away,  so  don't  say 
anything  more  about  what  you  don't  understand." 

Rose  sat  long  before  the  burning  gas-log,  but  at  last 
she  heard  the  grating  of  a  latch-key  in  the  outer  door, 
and,  jumping  to  her  feet,  ran  into  the  hall  preceded  by 
Teuss  to  meet  her  handsome  Marquis-lover — now  plain 
"Meester  Kergoat" — as  she  pronounced  it!  He  looked 
weary  and  a  trifle  harassed. 

"Have  you  dined?"  she  asked,  as,  throwing  off  his 
light  co  vert -coat  he  turned  towards  his  bedroom,  his 
spurs  clinking  softly  at  every  step. 

"No,  of  course  not.  I  came  straight  from  the  riding- 
school,  and  if  you  have  something  warm  to  give  me  I 

421 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

sha'n't  be  sorry,  for  I'm  dog-tired  and  I  had  nothing  but 
a  sandwich  at  noon." 

"All  right,  I'll  get  it  ready;  but  why  do  you  trouble  to 
dress  ?  You  are  not  going  out  again,  are  you  ?  Put  on 
your  slippers  and  your  smoking- jacket." 

"Not  a  bit  of  it.  You  know  that  I  hate  those  slip- 
shod ways;  besides,  I  may  have  to  go  down-town  again — 
worse  luck!" 

"Oh-h-oh!"  This  dolefully,  and  then,  after  a  pause, 
"Let  me  bring  you  some  brandy;  it  will  cheer  you 
up." 

"No,  no,  not  before  I've  eaten  something."  The  pro- 
test came  back  from  a  distance  amid  a  clatter  of  im- 
patiently-drawn-off  boots  and  creaking  boot- jacks;  but 
Rose,  quietly  stubborn,  made  a  bee-line  for  the  dining- 
room  cellarette,  and,  pouring  out  a  brimming  wineglassful 
of  liqueur-brandy,  brought  it  to  him  in  the  hope  that  it 
would  put  him  in  a  more  rosy  temper.  To  urge  stimu- 
lants upon  him  was  part  of  her  policy.  If  she  was  in  a 
gay  mood,  she  considered  that  it  insured  his  being  re- 
sponsive, while  if,  as  usual,  she  wanted  to  grumble  and 
complain,  she  hoped  it  would  keep  him  quiet  and  enable 
her,  therefore,  to  do  so  undisturbed.  As  soon  as  she 
was  certain  that  he  had  swallowed  the  drink  down  to 
the  last  drop,  she  disappeared  to  get  what  she  was  pleased 
to  call  his  dinner,  for,  it  being  Dinah's  night  out,  she  had 
to  take  this  care  upon  herself. 

Half  an  hour  later,  Loic,  in  faultless  evening  dress, 
was  seated  at  table  before  a  couple  of  poached  eggs — 
served  in  the  little  tin  pan  wherein  they  had  been  cooked 
— a  bottle  of  beer,  and  some  cold  remains  of  chicken 
promiscuously  piled  upon  a  chipped  plate  from  the  hand- 
some Dresden  "  onion  -  pattern  "  service  bought  by  him- 
self only  two  months  before  —  a  transaction  which  this 

422 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

man,  brought  up  to  eat  off  Sevres  and  gold-plate,  had 
considered  praiseworthily  economical. 

The  cloth  was  stained  with  jam  at  the  place  marked  by 
Kikette's  high-chair,  the  uncut  loaf,  flanked  by  a  kitchen 
carving-knife,  basked  upon  the  cloth  in  lazy  disregard  of 
the  silver  basket  reserved  for  its  use,  the  dainty  little 
jardiniere  containing  ferns  which  Loic  had  selected  look- 
ed withered  and  dusty  for  lack  of  proper  care,  and,  the 
gas  being  out  of  order  in  the  dining-room,  two  tin  kitchen 
candlesticks  with  guttering  candles  adorned  the  wrinkled 
centre  of  the  table.  Rose,  sour-faced  and  corsetless,  clad 
in  a  once  white  wrapper,  without  a  collar,  trailing  half  a 
yard  of  frayed  lace  frill  dismally  behind  her,  came  in  from 
the  pantry  pressing  a  dish  of  cheese  and  a  carafe  of 
claret  against  her  heart. 

"My  dear  girl,"  Loic  said,  wearily,  "why  do  you  let 
things  go  like  that?"  He  looked  wretchedly  ill  at  ease 
and  out  of  his  element,  and  as  he  glanced  around  him  a 
flush  of  shame  rose  to  the  very  roots  of  his  hair.  "  Surely," 
he  continued,  gently,  "you  could  get  Dinah  to  water  the 
ferns,  put  fresh  napery  on  the  table,  and  prepare  a  lamp 
when  the  gas  is  restive." 

"She  can't  do  everything,"  Rose  replied,  sulkily,  "and 
what  does  it  matter,  anyway — we  are  poor  people  now , 
we  don't  need  to  put  on  airs." 

"Well,  soap  and  water  don't  cost  much.  Look  at  your 
dressing-gown.  I  hate  to  find  fault,  but  it  is  an  abomina- 
tion, Rose!  I  cannot  imagine  how  you  can  bear  to  wear 
such  a  thing,  especially  since  you  still  have  lots  of  nice 
clothes."  He  had  pushed  his  sorry  meal  aside,  and  was 
lighting  a  cigarette  at  one  of  the  disgraceful  candles, 
his  brows  knit  in  a  frown  which  even  his  desire  to  avoid 
a  scene  could  not  quite  smooth  away. 

"Oh,  my  peignoir  is  well  enough,"  she  replied,  sitting 

423 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

down  sideways  on  Kikette's  chair  and  beginning  to  bite 
the  meat  off  a  chicken-bone  which  she  held  in  her  fingers. 

"Damn  it  all,  haven't  you  had  your  dinner?"  he  asked, 
angrily.  "It's  past  nine  o'clock!  What  have  you  been 
about?" 

"Don't  get  angry,  Loic,"  she  replied,  her  mouth  full. 
"I  ate  the  rest  of  Kikette's  bread  and  milk  and  one  of 
her  eggs.  I'm  not  hungry." 

"Really,  Rose,  this  is  too  bad!"  he  exclaimed,  dashing 
his  cigarette  viciously  upon  his  half -rilled  plate.  "I  want 
you  to  eat  properly,  and  when  I  am  not  here  to  get  Dinah 
to  serve  your  meals  in  a  Christian  fashion.  What  do 
you  suppose  she  thinks  of  such  doings  ?  And  my  poor 
little  Kikette,  is  all  this  a  proper  training  for  her?" 

Rose  flushed,  and,  eager  to  turn  the  conversation  from 
what  she  knew  by  experience  to  be  a  peculiarly  perilous 
topic,  set  down  the  half -gnawed  bone  and  offered  to  go 
and  make  Loic  a  cup  of  coffee. 

"Oh,  keep  still  —  coffee  is  an  ' after  -  dinner '  refresh- 
ment," he  said,  with  light  sarcasm.  "I  don't  need  any!" 

"Well,  then,  take  some  Chartreuse,  at  least."  And, 
rising  again  before  he  could  prevent  her,  she  placed  be- 
fore him  the  temptingly  arrayed  cellarette  and  poured 
him  out  a  most  unusually  imposing  bumper  of  the  above- 
named  liqueur,  which  he  absently  began  to  sip. 

"The  box  from  Gaidik  arrived  this  afternoon,"  she 
resumed,  cutting  herself  a  slice  of  cheese  and  beginning 
to  munch  it  without  bread.  "  I  did  not  open  it,  since  you 
forbade  me." 

Loic,  at  the  name  of  Gaidik,  had  instinctively  set  down 
his  glass,  and  the  color  brought  by  annoyance  and  the 
first  swallows  of  the  fiery  liquid  to  his  tanned  face  slowly 
ebbed  away  again. 

"All  right,"  he  said,  quickly.  "I'll  see  to  it  by-and- 

424 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

by.  Meanwhile  I  might  as  well  tell  you  that  I've  rented 
a  place  in  the  country,  a  very  pretty  old  place  but  little 
over  an  hour  from  town,  with  lots  of  pastureland,  a 
quaint  old  house,  where  you  and  Kikette  will  be  very 
comfortable,  and  good  stable  accommodation  for  the  horses 
I  am  going  to  take  for  training  and  breaking-in.  You 
had  best  begin  soon  to  pack  up,  for  we  must  leave  here 
before  the  end  of  the  month." 

Rose  heard  him  out  dismally,  her  face  gradually  puck- 
ering up  into  a  menace  of  tears.  She  was  not  sufficiently 
alert  to  keep  up  with  Loic's  rapid  flight  of  thoughts  and 
plans,  and  she  looked  bewildered  in  her  short-witted  in- 
dolence. 

"Are  you  in  earnest?"  she  asked,  her  lips  trembling, 
her  remaining  bit  of  cheese  held  in  mid-air  between  the 
table-cloth  and  her  mouth. 

"  In  the  deadliest  earnest,"  he  replied,  in  the  half-mock- 
ing tone  which  he  never  did  learn  to  lay  completely  aside. 

"You  really  are  going  to  become  a  trainer?" 

"Certainly;  it's  the  only  thing  I  can  do!"  he  exclaimed, 
with  dawning  impatience.  "This  riding-school  business 
is  heart-breaking.  We  are  a  lot  of  poor  devils  there — 
three  or  four  smashed-up  Aristocrats  like  myself,  and  five 
or  six  German  and  Austrian  ex-cavalry  officers — all  trying 
to  make  a  living  by  teaching  young  ladies  and  fat  old 
gentlemen  to  ride,  on  commission.  I  do  not,  in  spite  of 
my  working  like  a  dog,  make  much  more  at  this  game 
than  what  pays  for  my  cigarettes  and  the  'treats'  I  am 
forced  to  squander  upon  a  lot  of  hangers-on  and  would-be 
patrons.  When  our  money  is  gone,  what  shall  we  do, 
please?" 

There  was  a  little  pause.  Rose's  tears  had  begun  to 
flow,  and  Loic  was  looking  fixedly  out  of  the  window, 
through  which,  far  below  the  terrace-like  avenue  whereon 
as  425 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

the  house  was  built,  the  myriad  lights  of  the  enormous 
city  gleamed  like  armies  of  glowworms  on  a  background 
of  suffused  darkness. 

"What  objection  can  you  have  to  my  idea?"  he  asked, 
suddenly. 

Rose  raised  her  head  and  looked  at  him  in  resentful 
sullenness.  Her  hair  had  partially  slipped  from  its 
moorings,  and  the  yellow  glow  of  the  candles  fell  upon 
her  insignificant  face  and  streaming  eyes. 

"I'm  afraid  of  it,  Loic,"  she  sniffed.  "I'm  sure  it  will 
turn  out  badly." 

"Well,  you're  a  cheerful  young  lady!"  Loic  said,  rising 
and  walking  to  her  side.  "Don't  be  foolish,  my  girl," 
he  added,  soothingly,  gently  patting  her  shoulder.  "I 
want  to  make  some  money — it  will  be  a  novel  and  ex- 
hilarating experience  to  me;  besides,  it  is  absolutely 
necessary  that  I  should  do  so."  Then,  bending  over  the 
nearest  candle  to  light  a  fresh  cigarette,  he  continued: 
"This  interdiction  devised  by  my  estimable  Uncle  Paul, 
and  duly  carried  out  by  seven  carefully  chosen  members 
of  my  family,  prevents  me  from  touching  a  penny  of  the 
revenues  to  which  I  am  entitled  until  my  mother's  death, 
as  you  very  well  know.  All  my  available  capital  is  gone, 
all  excepting  what  remains  of  the  forty  thousand  dollars 
I  brought  here.  That  is  why  I  insisted  upon  coming  to 
America;  that  is  why  I  want  to  become  a  trainer,  why 
I  don't  mind  confessing  to  a  low  greed  of  gain,  and  why, 
also,  I  ask  you,  Rose,  to  be  brave  and  to  help  me  as 
much  as  you  can,  for  you  and  I  have  begun  badly — as 
badly  as  the  most  evilly  romantic  might  desire."  And 
he  looked  at  her  with  one  of  his  most  winning  smiles, 
but  Rose  did  not  move,  and  his  face  grew  grave  and  stern 
again,  to  conceal  a  throb  of  utter  misgiving  and  dis- 
couragement. 

426 


-"* 


PRINCE  PAUL 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

"I  am  afraid  you  don't  understand,"  he  said,  shrugging 
his  shoulders,  "so  let  us  go  and  open  Gaidik's  box." 
There  was  the  old  yearning  tenderness  in  his  voice  as  he 
pronounced  his  sister's  name,  and  he  led  the  way  into 
the  next  room  with  a  tired,  dispirited  step. 

Genevieve  de  Kergoat  had  taught  h  ^r  son  that  "Self" 
— with  a  huge  capital  "S" — and  self  alone  reigns  in  the 
world,  and  upon  this  principle  he  had  acted  for  a  time, 
after  a  fashion ,  but  long  ere  this  he  had  discovered  to  his 
cost  that  for  people  of  his  and  of  Gaidik's  stamp  this 
amiable  theory  was  untenable,  and  that  its  broad  cynicism 
was  lamentably  erroneous.  Better  would  it  have  been 
for  both,  nevertheless,  if  they  could  have  put  it  in  prac- 
tice, since  now  their  two  lives  were  irretrievably  saddened, 
their  hopes  shattered,  and  their  hearts  sore  with  the  in- 
consolable pain  of  their  separation.  Too  late  Loic  had 
recognized  the  full  extent  of  his  folly,  but  he  never  let 
that  be  noticed,  and,  although  he  felt  bitter  against  Rose, 
yet  as  he  bent  with  hammer  and  chisel  above  the  square, 
deal  case  addressed  in  Gaidik's  firm,  distinct  writing,  he 
refrained  from  any  chiding  in  his  abhorrence  for  hurting 
anybody's  feelings,  though  Rose,  sullen  and  resentful, 
certainly  did  not  deserve  such  forbearance. 

The  lid  removed,  Loic  with  tender  fingers  was  begin- 
ning to  push  gently  aside  the  folds  of  tissue-paper  cover- 
ing the  contents  of  the  box,  when  he  abruptly  stopped. 

"Kikette  must  see  this!"  he  exclaimed. 

"You  are  not  going  to  wake  her  up,  are  you?"  queried 
Rose,  peevishly.  "She'll  never  want  to  go  to  sleep 
again."  But  he  had  already  left  the  room,  where  he  re- 
appeared a  few  minutes  later  carrying  the  deliciously 
flushed  and  delighted  little  maid  wrapped  in  a  swan's- 
down -lined  dressing-gown,  and  with  azure  slippers  on 
her  rosy  feet. 

427 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

"There  now,  my  pet,"  he  said,  triumphantly,  setting 
her  down  amid  a  nest  of  sofa-cushions,  "we  will  see  what 
there  is  for  you  in  there."  And  with  sudden  energy  he 
set  to  work  unfolding  paper  after  paper  and  exhibiting 
with  boyish  pleasure  each  object  to  his  tiny  daughter. 

"What  can  there  be  in  this  long  package?"  Rose  asked, 
suddenly — "the  one  tied  with  pink  ribbons?" 

Loic  did  not  at  once  reply,  but  handled  the  long,  nar- 
row box  for  a  few  seconds  in  silence,  his  eyes  curiously 
attentive  and  grave.  As  he  turned  back  the  inner  cover, 
the  light  from  the  chandelier  shone  upon  a  length  of 
handsome,  silver -gray  silk  accompanied  by  a  generous 
allowance  of  exquisitely  embroidered  dress  trimmings, 
topped  by  dainty  gloves  and  lace  handkerchiefs.  At 
length  he  looked  up. 

"See  what  those  things  say  for  themselves,"  he  said, 
in  a  queer,  changed  voice;  "they  are  obviously  for  you," 
and  he  handed  the  open  carton  to  Rose.  He  was  deeply 
touched,  and  his  whole  expression  was  softened  and 
genuinely  happy  while  he  resumed  the  unpacking  of  the 
wealth  of  lovely  things  still  half  filling  the  deep  chest 
and  heaped  them  around  Kikette,  who  at  each  new  sur- 
prise loudly  shouted  for  joy. 

It  was  nearly  midnight  when  at  last  the  end  of  the  dis- 
play was  reached,  and  Loic,  much  to  Kikette's  disgust, 
snatched  her  away  from  her  new  treasures  and  bore  her 
to  her  satin-lined  crib,  promising  to  sing  her  to  sleep. 

"Papa,"  she  said,  a  little  later,  in  her  pretty,  uncer- 
tain English,  and  patting  his  cheeks  with  both  her  chubby 
hands,  "you  is  not  miserable  wretched — is  you?" 

"No,  sweetheart — why?"  he  asked,  in  astonishment. 

"Because  oor  eyes  is  all  damp  while  oo  sing,  and  I  was 
finking  p'rhaps  you  is  sorry  Aunty  Gaid  is  not  here  wif 
us." 

428 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

And  just  then  at  the  door  Rose  appeared,  saying, 
plaintively,  "I  told  you,  Loic,  she  wouldn't  go  to  sleep 
again."  Then  to  Kikette,  in  angry  tones:  "You  are  a 
very  naughty  little  girl.  Papa's  grog  will  be  all  cold." 

There  was  no  doubt  about  Loic's  punishment  being  a 
severe  one,  and  none  knew  this  better  than  himself. 
Nevertheless,  there  were  not  many  things  that  had  power 
really  to  cast  him  down,  and,  thanks  to  this,  the  miseries 
of  the  past  years  had  altered  him  less  than  might  have 
been  expected.  He  was  meant  for  luxury,  great  wealth, 
the  glitter  of  every  magnificence.  He  had  none  of  these 
things  now,  but  he  was  still  the  brave,  dashing  Loic  of 
old,  and  he  threw  himself  body  and  soul  into  his  installa- 
tion at  "Cinnamon  Hill  " — for  such  was  the  spicy  name 
of  the  place  selected  for  his  new  venture.  Working  day 
and  night,  packing  up,  travelling  to  and  fro,  seeing  people 
at  impossible  hours,  returning  to  his  dismantled  apart- 
ment long  after  midnight,  tired  out  but  still  full  of  hope, 
he  completed  his  preparations  with  unimpaired  good- 
humor,  and  finally,  on  a  stormy  afternoon,  when  wind 
and  rain  were  doing  their  best  to  wreck  the  beauty  of 
the  spring  woods,  he  and  his  little  Smala  landed  at  the 
big,  long-uninhabited  house  which  was  to  be  yet  another 
home  to  them. 

Not  as  easily  as  he  had  at  first  thought  had  he  suc- 
ceeded in  obtaining  horses  to  train,  but  he  based  great 
expectations  upon  six  or  seven  raw  broncoes  purchased 
from  a  bunch  offered  for  sale  by  some  speculative  cow- 
boys on  an  unbuilt  Harlem  block.  These  were  good 
material  and  cheap,  for,  as  he  said,  confidently  and  very 
truthfully  to  Rose,  "there  are  few  people  who'd  care 
to  tackle  and  break  in  that  sort  of  cattle." 

The  house  stood  high-perched  on  a  narrow  ridge  of 
well-timbered  ground,  commanding  long  views  of  rolling 

429 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

meadows  alternating  with  the  lighter  green  of  newly  clad 
trees.  To  the  east  wended  one  broad,  macadamized  road, 
and  to  the  west  another  identical  one,  disfigured  by  the 
slender  wires  and  tall  pillars  of  electric  car-lines.  At  the 
foot  of  the  sloping  and  neglected  garden  there  was  a 
small  pond,  of  excellent  use  for  horses,  and  beyond  the 
stables  and  barn  a  distant  view  of  the  bay  was  glimpsed 
from  the  grassy  southward  brow  of  the  hill  above  the 
flat  roofs  of  two  or  three  other  villas,  which  also  had  long 
since  seen  their  day,  and  were  now  rented  at  prices  which 
would  have  made  their  original  millionaire  owners  turn  in 
their  graves. 

The  fact  that  the  whole  locality  had  gone  hopelessly 
out  of  fashion,  however,  was  scarcely  a  trouble  to  Loic, 
who,  beaming  with  pride,  kept  repeating,  "  Fifty  dollars 
a  month  for  over  forty  acres  and  a  house  full  of  twenty- 
foot  rooms  and  forty -foot  salons;  isn't  that  dirt  cheap?" 

To  be  sure,  these  once  gorgeous  apartments  were  rather 
ghastly  of  aspect  in  their  present  nakedness.  The  gilding 
of  the  cornices  had  turned  to  a  dingy  brown,  the  wall- 
papers were  faded  and  sun-eaten  beyond  belief,  and  the 
tout-ensemble  spoke  loudly  of  that  artistically  dispiriting 
era,  the  modern  past.  Also,  in  this  stormy  weather 
the  out-door  advantages  were  not  evident,  though  only  a 
day  before  a  glance  through  the  rickety  window-frames 
would  have  fallen  upon  sloping  lawns  blue  with  violets 
under  the  May  sunshine,  fringed  with  purple  lilac  and  as 
yet  flowerless  syringa,  and  punctuated  with  delicious 
tangles  of  leaf  and  blossom  which  represented  long-for- 
gotten flower-beds,  relapsing  into  exquisite,  untutored 
nature.  There  were  dark,  clean-smelling  pines  to  con- 
trast with  the  paler  tints  of  elms  and  maples,  and  an 
orchard  of  pink-and-white  bloom  that  canopied  silvery 
Stars-of -Bethlehem  and  yellow  daffodils  beneath,  all  of 

430 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

which  was  cause  for  much  rejoicing,  according  to  Loic, 
whose  spirited  description  reconstructed  the  landscape 
almost  as  well  as  the  sun  would  have  done.  But  Rose, 
seated  on  a  packing-case  in  the  immense  drawing-room, 
refused  to  find  consolation  in  such  nonsensical  trifles, 
and  almost  rivalled  the  extraordinarily  heavy  rain  beat- 
ing against  the  cloudy  panes  by  the  flood  of  tears  to 
which  she  gave  way,  in  spite  of  a  for-once-genuine  desire 
not  to  annoy  Loic  and  upset  Kikette,  who  was  wildly 
dancing  with  joy  at  being  let  loose  in  this  great,  bare 
house. 

"  Come,  come,  Rose — cheer  up,  my  girl!"  Loic  cried,  gay- 
ly,  "this  place  will  be  a  perfect  little  paradise  when  once 
we  have  put  it  to  rights."  He  was  kneeling  before  the 
cavernous  chimney  and  lighting  what  he  termed  a  "camp- 
fire"  with  a  deftness  which  did  him  the  greatest  credit. 
"Wait  and  see  what  can  be  done  with  it  before  you  give 
way  like  that,"  he  continued,  his  cheery  voice  half  lost 
in  the  roar  of  the  crackling  wood  and  the  whistling  of 
the  wind  descending  like  an  avalanche  down  the  flue. 

"I'm  not  good  at  arranging  rooms,"  whimpered  Rose. 
"I'm  not  clever,  like  you,  Loic." 

"For  which  you  may  thank  a  gracious  Providence," 
he  interposed,  stepping  back  a  pace  to  admire  his  handi- 
work. "Clever  chaps  like  me  are  what  the  generality  of 
people  call  fools ;  but  there,  take  Kikette  up-stairs.  John, 
my  Irish  acquisition  and  general  factotum,  has  lighted  a 
roarer  in  your  bedroom,  and  as  soon  as  his  better  half 
has  succeeded  in  making  the  kitchen  range  work  down- 
stairs, I'll  bring  you  a  cup  of  tea  to  set  up  your  nerves 
and  warm  you  to  the  occasion." 

There  is  something  in  a  gentleman's  nature  that  pre- 
disposes him  to  leniency  towards  a  mental  and  social  in- 
ferior, and  when  that  inferior  is  a  small  woman,  for  whose 

431 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

sake — out  of  a  mistaken  sense  of  honor — one  has  sac- 
rificed all,  the  feeling  is  intensified  and  helps  a  man  like 
Loic  to  prendre  son  mat  en  patience.  And  yet  when 
Rose  departed,  preceded  by  the  merrily  echoing  laughter 
of  Kikette,  his  look  pursued  her;  he  drew  in  his  breath 
sharply,  and  paused  for  a  few  seconds  on  the  brink,  as 
it  were,  of  this  new  life,  looking  drearily  far  beyond  the 
chasm  separating  him  from  the  past,  a  chasm  wherein  he 
had  sunk  everything  that  he  most  valued  and  loved,  re- 
taining but  one  joy,  one  hope,  one  raison  d'etre — Kikette! 

Dusk  was  falling  outside,  and  the  big,  gloomy  room  was 
illumined  fitfully  by  the  rising  and  falling  flames  in  the 
cracked,  white  marble  chimney-piece,  and  through  a 
window  which  he  had  just  thrown  open,  to  get  rid  of  some 
wholly  superfluous  smoke  wreaths,  the  rain -soaked  air 
entered,  laden  with  that  singular  feeling  of  enervating 
relaxation  and  limpness  which  some  steadily  falling  spring 
showers  bring  in  their  softly  murmuring  train.  A  scent 
of  lilac  reached  him,  stabbing  him  to  the  heart  with  all 
the  bitter  poignancy  of  the  familiar  thing  under  alien 
and  unfriendly  skies.  Abruptly  he  squared  his  shoulders. 
"Come,  come,  my  lad,"  he  muttered,  with  set  teeth, 
"none  of  that!"  And  with  a  little  shiver  he  turned  again 
to  his  work. 

His  scanty  furniture,  which  was  even  then  being 
brought  in  by  the  van-men,  made  a  disappointingly  small 
display.  It  had  looked  quite  sumptuous  in  the  Harlem 
Bonbonniere,  but  here —  He  contemplated  it  gravely, 
yet  already,  with  something  like  humor  dawning  in  his 
eyes  (he  and  Gaidik  were  like  that — they  never  found  any- 
thing that  daunted  them  for  long),  once  more  the  man, 
whose  only  care  it  was  how  to  make  things  comfortable 
for  Kikette  and  Rose.  This,  under  the  immediate  cir- 
cumstances, was  a  question  of  some  magnitude;  but  the 

432 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

next  morning  found  him  whistling  merrily  in  the  midst 
of  a  much-reduced  chaos,  from  which,  as  the  days  went 
by,  he  speedily  and  capably  evolved  a  well-ordered  es- 
tablishment, that,  if  planned  on  a  very  humble  scale,  still 
bade  fair  to  blossom  later  on  into  what  he  confidently 
expected  would  prove  a  rattling  success. 

Rose,  infected  by  so  much  bravery  and  good  temper, 
did  her  best  at  first — alas!  it  was  not  much — to  help  him. 
She  was,  unfortunately,  sorely  handicapped  by  her  in- 
ability to  speak  English  fluently — although  for  one  usually 
so  dull  she  was  perfecting  herself  in  this  extremely  anti- 
Latin  language  with  great  rapidity — and,  moreover,  she 
had  no  one  to  consult  about  the  management  of  a  com- 
paratively large  household  on  strange  shores,  no  one  to 
whom  she  could  turn  for  advice.  She  had  to  work  it 
out  by  herself,  and  it  happened  that  this  young  woman 
could  scarcely  be  classed  among  those  who  are  sufficient 
unto  themselves,  strong  to  hold  to  their  purpose,  to  sub- 
due their  weaknesses  and  keep  silent  about  their  failures. 
She  therefore  ended  by  seeing  nothing  but  what  she 
called  the  cruelty  of  her  own  life,  which  to  her  had  now 
lost  all  its  gilded  romance,  and  was  all  plain  facts  and 
arid  duties.  She  had  never  been  brilliant  or  amusing; 
now  she  went  about  her  new  tasks  with  an  air  of  en- 
forced resignation  somewhat  galling  to  behold,  spoke  in 
a  subdued  voice,  and  evidently  considered  herself  to  be 
a  victim  deserving  of  much  pity. 

Four  months  elapsed,  and  the  excitement  created  by 
the  installation  of  the  little  family  and  of  a  stableful  of 
horses  had  long  subsided.  Things  took  an  every-day 
course,  and  Loic  was  still  in  daily  expectation  of  the 
tremendous  success  he  had  predicted  for  his  venture. 
Having  left  behind  him  home,  wealth,  and  love,  he  was, 
nevertheless,  facing  discomfort,  anxiety,  and  the  pos- 

433 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

sibility  of  failure  with  an  entirely  unruffled  brow.  He 
did  not. permit  himself  to  contemplate  the  dangers  that 
lay  ahead,  and  kept  his  high  courage  intact,  although 
his  view  of  the  future  perhaps  erred  on  the  side  of  con- 
fidence, considering  the  host  of  parasites  that  had  now 
assembled  around  him  to  practise  upon  his  open  heart 
and  open  hand — a  motley  crew  of  famished  European 
exiles,  who,  having  once  hoped  to  achieve  their  ambitious 
aims  in  the  equine  line  of  business,  had  miserably  tum- 
bled into  drink  and  evil  ways. 

They  formed  a  harassing  pack  of  decently  clad  men- 
dicants, and  descended  upon  him  at  all  hours  under  the 
pretext  of  canvassing  for  customers,  but  in  reality  to 
swallow  multifarious  liquors  beneath  the  drooping  wis- 
taria blossoms  of  the  saddlery  veranda,  their  boots  ele- 
vated to  a  level  with  their  noses  upon  the  creeper-grown 
railing,  and  smoke  oozing  from  their  lips  in  lazy  clouds. 
They  one  and  all  recognized  that  Le  Patron — -as  they 
called  Loic — was  a  remarkable  horseman,  the  best  judge 
of  cattle,  and  the  finest  trainer  they  had  ever  encountered, 
and  decided  that  by  attaching  themselves  to  him  they 
had  a  very  fair  chance  of  retrieving  their  fallen  fortunes. 
He  himself,  if  the  truth  must  be  told,  was  amused  in  his 
loneliness  by  their  ready  banter;  perhaps  a  little  pleased, 
too,  by  the  flattery  and  deference  with  which  they  so 
lavishly  and,  after  a  fashion,  cleverly  fenced  him  in;  and 
even  when,  having  imbibed  too  freely  of  his  generously 
poured  first-class  beverages,  they  grew  somewhat  noisy, 
he  did  not  have  the  heart  to  send  them  packing,  and 
merely  shrugged  his  shoulders  indulgently. 

Among  connoisseurs  Loic  was  well-known  already  as 
an  expert.  Always  admirably  horsed,  his  saddlery  ex- 
hibiting the  newest  improvements,  his  stables  abound- 
ing with  the  newest  things  out  in  the  way  of  sanitation 

434 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

and  fittings — in  spite  of  their  old-fashioned  inconvenience 
of  build — his  stock  fed  as  no  dealer  ever  dreamed*  of  feed- 
ing his,  he  commanded  their  applause  and  admiration, 
although  they  shook  doleful  heads  over  the  business 
aspects  of  his  venture,  contending,  with  some  reason, 
that  one  could  run  an  establishment  in  such  a  way  for 
pleasure,  but  not  for  gain.  This  aristocratic  dealer  and 
trainer,  who  showed  them  around  his  paddocks,  clad  in 
irreproachable  riding-gear  and  mounted  on  his  favorite 
hunter,  Murmur,  a  magnificent  dapple  -  gray,  possessed 
of  a  fine,  bold  eye  and  an  inexpressibly  difficult  temper, 
almost  awed  them.  They  did  not  understand  him.  He 
was  so  unwilling,  apparently,  to  push  a  bargain,  so  royal- 
ly ready  to  meet  a  customer  half-way,  and  so  idiotically 
eager  to  point  out  the  defects  of  the  horses  he  had  for 
sale.  A  gentleman — ah,  they  should  rather  think  so;  but 
a  successful  seller  of  horseflesh — hum!  hum!  that  was  a 
different  story  altogether. 

Who  on  earth  was  he,  anyhow  ?  Some  began  to  think 
him  a  Royal  Prince  in  disguise,  exiled  for  deep  political 
reasons ;  but  why  was  he  married  —  for  married  they 
naturally  believed  him  to  be  —  to  such  a  singular  little 
person?  Mrs.  Kergoat — they  generally  pronounced  it 
"Cur-gote,"  which  always  sent  Loic  into  fits  of  laughter 
— did  not  appeal  either  to  the  American  element  around 
her  or  to  her  Lord's  exotic  parasites.  Several  among  the 
latter  "smelt  a  rat,"  as  they  gracefully  expressed  it,  and 
looked  at  each  other  with  covert  smiles  of  scornful  amuse- 
ment when  she  spoke  of  her  "usban" — ex -gentlemen 
these,  who  before  yielding,  greatly  to  their  detriment,  to 
an  unquenchable  thirst  for  whiskey  -  and  -  water  (say  a 
thimbleful  of  cold  water  to  a  tumbler  of  spirits) ,  had  seen 
much  of  the  world  on  both  sides  of  the  herring-pond. 
No  beauty,  no  wit,  not  a  single  talent,  no  chic,  no  savoire- 

435 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

faire,  no  monde.  "They  "  knew  better  than  to  think  such 
a  woman  capable  of  ever  having  successfully  played  the 
matrimonial  card;  but  there  was  the  child,  and  even 
their  sodden  brains  and  toughened  hearts  could  under- 
stand that  wellnigh  any  sacrifice  could  be  made  for  the 
sake  of  such  a  perfect  little  creature.  Time  had  not  only 
intensified  in  Kikette  that  resemblance  to  Gaidik  in 
feature  and  coloring  of  which  her  father  was  so  proud, 
but  had  even  added  further  likenesses  of  bearing  and 
character  that  brought  his  love  for  her  to  the  point  of 
slavish  adoration. 

"Isn't  she  the  image  of  Gaidik?"  he  said  to  Rose  one 
morning,  when  he  had  brought  his  little  maid  round  to 
the  house  riding  a  Shetland  pony  the  size  of  a  big  dog. 
She  sat  in  her  saddle  like  a  Royal  Princess,  and  her  whole 
attitude,  her  inexpressibly  amusing  air  of  superb  self- 
possession  and  ease,  were  so  comically  like  her  aunt's 
that  he  stepped  back  a  little  to  look  his  fill  at  her. 

Rose,  leaning  over  the  piazza  rail,  frowned  heavily — 
any  mention  of  Gaidik  always  brought  that  expression 
to  her  face — and  contemptuously  shrugged  her  shoulders, 
which  movement  brought  Loic's  attention  her  way. 

"What  are  you  frowning  about?"  he  asked,  irritably. 
"Have  I  said  anything  to  offend  you?" 

"No-o-o,"  she  drawled,  gazing  superciliously  at  the 
little  girl  and  pony,  "but  one  might  think  that  you  are 
glad  she  is  so  unlike  me." 

He  stared,  for  although  well  aware  of  Rose's  rancorous 
jealousy,  yet  lately  she  had  fallen  into  the  habit  of  carry- 
ing this  unpleasant  defect  a  little  too  far.  Scarcely  could 
she  endure  his  speaking  to  any  other  woman ;  and  as  there 
was  a  bevy  of  madcap  girls  in  the  neighborhood,  all  of 
them  thoroughly  smitten  with  him  and  making  up  to 
him  in  the  funniest  and  most  barefaced  manner,  her 

436 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

black  looks  and  sulks  greatly  complicated  an  already 
sufficiently  vexatious  situation;  but  to  have  her  so 
openly  show  her  antipathy  for  Gaidik  was  somewhat  de 
trop,  and  his  frown  more  than  matched  her  own  as  he 
replied : 

"  If  you  like  to  take  it  like  that  you  have  my  permission 
to  do  so,  but  let  me  tell  you  that  jealous  women  are  a 
nuisance,  and  that  I  am  not  minded  to  stand  much  more 
of  your  bullyragging  in  that  direction." 

"I'll  never  get  accustomed  to  see  you  flirt  with  every 
petticoat  you  meet,"  she  said,  aggressively,  flicking  wrath- 
fully  at  the  delicate  tendrils  of  the  superb  honeysuckle 
which  made  that  old  piazza  a  thing  of  beauty. 

"Be  careful  what  you  say,  Rose,"  he  whispered,  bend- 
ing towards  her;  and,  as  Kikette  started  her  pony  away 
at  a  foot-pace  towards  the  orchard,  he  added,  in  a  louder 
voice,  "And  remember  that  years  ago  I  warned  you  that 
fidelity  was  not  among  the  promises  I  was  ready  to  make 
to  you ;  it's  not  in  my  line!"  Then  he  turned  to  follow  the 
child. 

He  was  thoroughly  angry,  and  his  face  was  still  as 
black  as  thunder  when  he  caught  up  with  her. 

"There's  two  gentlemen,  Sor,  come  to  have  a  look 
round,"  his  head-groom  said,  running  towards  him  at 
that  moment.  "Be  aisy,  Sor,"  he  continued,  "if  ye  mane 
to  show  them  Flying  Fox  to-day ;  begor,  he's  acting  like 
a  divil  intoirely,  wid  his  wicked  eye  enclosed." 

The  two  "gentlemen"  were  a  stout  individual  with  a 
large,  clean-shaven  face,  whereon  "  horse  -  dealer "  was 
plainly  written,  and  a  tall,  lanky  man  of  the  same  pro- 
fessional stamp,  whose  bibulous  countenance  was  illu- 
mined by  small,  shrewd  brown  eyes.  Both  wore  breeches 
and  gaiters,  and  each  raised  one  finger  to  their  respective 
Glengarry  caps  in  salutation  as  Loic  approached. 

437 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

"What  can  I  do  for  you?"  asked  the  latter,  rather 
shortly,  for  he  was  still  thinking  of  Rose's  taunts. 

"Well,  Governor,"  the  stout  one  replied,  in  a  loud, 
affable  voice,  "we've  come  to  look  round  your  hunters; 
we  need  some  nice,  workman-like  nags,  and  we  thought 
that  maybe  you  could  oblige  us." 

"Is  it  for  yourself?"  Loic  asked,  and,  as  he  expected, 
found  out  that  it  was  not,  but  was  meant  for  a  couple  of 
"friends"  of  the  would-be  purchasers,  who  wanted 
"something  handsome  to  carry  a  rider  pleasantly,  clever 
across  country,  with  a  good  turn  of  speed,"  etc.,  etc. 

"We'll  walk  around  the  stables  first,"  Loic  proposed, 
leading  the  way,  "  and  then  we  can  go  on  to  the  galloping 
ground,  where  I  have  a  few  good  made-up  leaping-places." 

"That's  a  very  likely  animal!"  shouted  the  broad- 
shouldered  man.  "What's  his  figure,  Governor?"  and 
he  pointed  to  a  rather  leggy  thorough-bred  colt,  slightly 
over  sixteen  hands,  sidling  and  backing  restlessly  in  the 
yard,  where  a  groom  was  exercising  him  by  hand.  This 
was  Flying  Fox,  and  he  certainly  looked  just  then  as 
if  he  had  "his  wicked  eye  on  closed!" 

"That's  scarcely  what  I'd  call  a  pleasant  carrier," 
Loic  objected,  smilingly  quoting  from  the  demand  made 
upon  his  stables.  "Not  a  bad-shaped  one,  as  you  can 
see  for  yourselves — although  there's  a  trifle  too  much  day- 
light under  him — but  very  hot-tempered  and  fidgety.  Do 
you  really  want  to  see  him  moving?" 

"Yes,  I  must  say  I  would,"  was  the  reply,  and  Flying 
Fox  was  a  few  minutes  later,  with  difficulty,  prevailed 
upon  to  accompany  the  other  horses,  now  being  led  out, 
to  a  large  pasture  wherein  Loic  had  caused  a  few  hurdles, 
a  couple  of  doubles,  an  Irish-bank,  and  a  respectably 
high,  loose  stone  wall  to  be  erected. 

One  after  the  other  he  put  his  sale-hunters  over  the 

438 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

jumps  at  steeple  chasing  speed,  and  finally  ranged  along- 
side of  the  two  visitors. 

"Before  we  decide,  we  must  see  that  bay  colt  have  a 
shy  at  the  'leps,'"  remarked  the  stout  dealer,  evidently 
an  Irishman,  although  he  put  on  all  the  British  "side" 
he  could. 

"Very  good,  I'll  give  him  a  bit  of  a  round  first  to  take 
the  edge  off  his  temper,"  Loic  said,  preparing  to  exchange 
the  filly  he  was  riding  for  the  excited  steeplechaser  just 
then  tearing  and  snatching  at  his  bit  and  dancing  round 
and  round  his  groom  as  if  treading  on  red-hot  plates. 
In  a  second  more  he  had  the  bay  well  in  hand  and  was 
flying  down  the  field,  sitting  squarely  in  the  saddle,  as 
serenely  composed  as  if  he  were  occupying  a  well-cush- 
ioned arm-chair. 

The  stout  dealer  slapped  his  leg  enthusiastically. 
"Bedad  that's  a  rider  worth  two!"  he  said,  nudging  his 
companion,  and  at  that  moment  Loic  put  his  animal 
into  a  stretching  gallop  and  headed  him  for  the  leaps. 
The  first  was  a  tall  fence,  laced  high  and  stiff  with  thorn, 
and  Loic  loosened  Flying  Fox  to  his  full  will.  No 
question  here  of  whip  or  spur.  The  horse's  grand  stride 
swept  along  till  his  hoofs  seemed  scarcely  to  touch  the 
ground,  and  with  the  smooth  flight  of  a  swallow  he  rose 
to  the  jump,  landed  clear,  and  sped  on  straight  as  an 
arrow  towards  the  other  obstacles. 

A  few  minutes  only  had  gone  by  in  that  splendid  flight, 
and  Flying  Fox  was  racing  as  gamely  and  as  fast  as 
at  the  first  hedge,  past  the  gate  to  the  pine-wood,  past 
the  paddock  rails  and  the  broad,  silvery  trunks  of  the 
tall  beech-trees  overshadowing  the  down  track,  when 
suddenly  Kikette,  fired  by  her  father's  example,  escaped 
from  John's  custody  and  charged  on  her  little  pony  to 
meet  him.  Loic's  shout  of  warning  came  too  late,  for, 

439 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

frightened  by  the  steeplechaser's  thundering  onrush,  the 
Shetland  shied  violently,  pitching  the  little  maid  head- 
foremost right  into  the  middle  of  the  course,  and  al- 
most beneath  Flying  Fox  iron-shod  feet.  In  the  age- 
long instant  that  followed,  some  of  the  on-lookers  turned 
away  their  heads,  others,  who  stared  with  a  terrible  fixed 
fascination  to  see  the  child  trampled — for  the  horse  was 
at  his  utmost  burst  of  speed  and  there  was  no  time  to 
turn  —  saw,  almost  simultaneously  with  Kikette's  fall, 
Loic  swing  down  and  forward  from  the  saddle,  Cossack- 
fashion,  and  barely  snatch  her  from  beneath  the  gallop- 
ing hoofs. 

There  was  a  moment's  silence  while  the  colt  swept  by, 
then  as  his  rider  reined  him  in,  and,  turning,  came  back 
bearing  the  little  girl  safe  and  sound  upon  his  saddle- 
bow, all  hands  rushed  forward  as  by  one  impulse  with 
frantic  yells  of  applause.  Loic  dismounted  into  the 
hubbub,  outwardly  —  despite  the  extreme  pallor  of  his 
face — calm  and  impassive  as  ever,  but  really  with  deaf 
ears  and  unseeing  eyes.  It  does  not  fall  to  the  lot  of 
every  man  to  pit  his  own  skill  and  sinew  against  the  iron 
hand  of  death  for  all  that  is  left  to  him  of  life  and  love! 

As  for  the  two  dealers,  their  enthusiasm  knew  no 
bounds.  Flying  Fox,  whom  Loic  surrendered  with  great 
reluctance,  was  only  one  of  a  bunch  of  horses  that  they 
purchased.  Then  declaring  with  much  pungency  and 
picturesqueness  that  they  had  never  met  with  an  occa- 
sion that  presented  so  many  indubitable  and  pressing 
indications  for  drink,  they  settled  down  to  make  a  day 
of  it,  and  departed  late  at  night  in  a  state  of  mushy  and 
maudlin  sentiment,  swearing  to  recommend  to  as  many 
of  their  confreres  as  possible  "thish  truly  ad'm'r'ble 
'shtablishm't." 


CHAPTER   XXII 

Black  storm!  black  storm!  and  below  the  weight 
Of  whelming  surge  doth  the  battered  bark 
Drive  like  an  arrow  sped  by  Fate 
At  the  heart  of  the  roaring  dark. 
Dim  Shapes  leap  up  from  the  keel  beneath 
And  whitely  grin  with  their  baffled  teeth, 
Or  shouldering  heavily,  huge  and  tall, 
Poise,  curve,  and  crash  like  a  shattered  wall. 
Oh  sing  confusion  of  sight  and  sound 
Closed  in  the  core  of  a  hissing  swound! 
And  gasp,  if  the  blood  course  red  and  warm 
In  the  unchilled  veins, 

Black  storm!  M.  M. 

SNOW  was  falling  softly  and  relentlessly,  falling  as  it 
never  falls  in  France,  and  the  thermometer  was  some- 
thing below  zero.  This  winter,  the  first  of  their  stay 
in  America,  was  unusually  severe,  and  the  present  storm 
— the  tail-end  of  a  blizzard  blown  over  from  the  Far 
West — had  been  for  two  days  steadily  drifting  in  ex- 
haustless  clouds  past  the  frozen  window-panes.  Every 
tree  in  the  grounds  had  on  its  leeward  side  a  high,  nar- 
row wedge  of  accumulated  snow  tailing  off  to  a  sharp 
point,  and  the  white  monotony  of  the  landscape — where 
it  was  visible — the  sense  of  isolation  conveyed  by  the 
impenetrable  atmosphere  lay  like  lead  upon  Rose's  heart 
as  she  paced  nervously  up  and  down  the  long,  cold 
drawing-room,  wrapped  in  a  fleecy  shawl  of  pink-and- 
white  Algerian  silk,  which  had  been  included  in  the  huge 
Christmas-box  sent  by  Gaidik. 
ao  441 


THE    TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

Affairs  had  not  been  going  well  after  all  with  the  trio 
at  Cinnamon  Hill,  thanks  to  an  inconceivable  streak  of 
bad  luck,  two  horses  having  died  of  pneumonia,  and  a 
handsome  pair  of  trotters  having  run  away  from  John, 
after  that  worthy's  indulging  in  a  drop  too  much  of  "the 
cratur,"  with  the  result  that  both  had  injured  themselves 
past  healing  and  had  had  to  be  shot.  These  were  very  seri- 
ous losses,  and  had  strained  Loic's  slender  resources  to  the 
uttermost,  as  Rose  bitterly  reflected  while  sniffing  at  the 
lingering  aroma  of  tobacco  and  spirits  that  gave  the 
room  a  slightly  dissipated  fragrance,  which  no  amount 
of  airing  could  dispel.  There  was  a  pitiful  lack  of 
femininity  there,  no  dainty  hand  had  draped  the  rigid 
green  curtains  made  of  some  pretty  material  bought  by 
Loic  at  a  clearing-sale,  the  few  pictures  and  photographs 
hung  more  or  less  lopsidedly  on  the  endless  area  of 
faded  paper,  and  no  pretty  little  work-basket  or  stray 
bit  of  embroidery  enlivened  the  tables,  upon  which  books, 
pipes,  cigarette-boxes,  unemptied  ash-trays  and  sporting 
journals  lay  in  hopeless  confusion.  Rose  was  not  the 
woman  to  make  home  "homelike,"  or  to  spread  comfort 
about  her,  and  yet  she  wondered  why  Loic  came  back 
reluctantly  to  it — even  when  having  eaten  but  a  flying 
meal  wherever  business  had  taken  him — so  thoroughly 
tired  out  and  dispirited  that  he  fell  asleep  with  his  boots 
and  spurs  still  on  in  the  first  convenient  chair. 

She  looked  very  limp  and  forlorn  in  her  ill-made  gown 
of  brown  flannel  and  her  exquisite  shawl — already  torn 
and  stained  in  three  or  four  places — as  she  wandered 
back  and  forth  trying  to  think  where  the  money  was  to 
come  from  to  pay  household  expenses.  The  bills  lately 
had  been  running  on  at  a  terrific  rate.  The  butcher's 
and  grocer's  were  gigantic,  the  milkman — a  crabbed  per- 
sonage, with  a  face  which  Loic  claimed  was  bound  to 

442 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

sour  his  wares — had  been  openly  rude  to  her  when  she 
had  asked  him  to  await  the  end  of  the  month  for  settle- 
ment of  his  interminable  memoir e.  This  was  not,  how- 
ever, Rose's  most  pressing  trouble,  she  had  another  which 
she  hugged  to  her  bosom  with  vindictive  persistency,  mak- 
ing of  it  an  excuse  for  all  her  own  delinquencies — namely, 
her  ever-increasing  and  not  always  entirely  causeless 
jealousy. 

Loic  was  no  saint,  as  he  himself  candidly  avowed. 
Moreover,  he  had  warned  her  in  all  frankness  at  the  be- 
ginning of  their  sorry  liaison  that  he  intended — knowing 
himself  as  he  did — to  remain  complete  master  of  his 
actions.  He  would — that  he  had  promised  and  very 
nobly  kept — be  kind  and  generous  to  her,  she  would  be 
his  first  care,  and  she  had  been  so  always,  save  for  little 
Kikette.  Since  their  arrival  in  America,  he  had  repeat- 
edly implored  her  to  marry  him,  in  order  to  terminate 
an  awkward  situation  and  legitimize  the  child,  and  it 
was  she  who  had  most  stubbornly  and  to  him  incompre- 
hensibly refused,  declining  to  give  her  reasons  for  so 
extraordinary  a  course  of  conduct,  but  adhering  to  it 
with  sullen  obstinacy.  He  had  been  loyal,  therefore, 
and  more  than  loyal  to  his  engagements,  but  her  martyr- 
mind  would  not  admit  this,  and  she  considered  herself 
deeply  injured  whenever  a  pretty  face  appeared  above 
her  narrow  horizon.  As  a  helpmate  Rose  was,  alas,  next 
to  useless,  and  any  illusions  which  Loic  might  ever  have 
entertained  as  to  the  possibility  of  training  and  educating 
her  to  a  higher  level  had  long  since  been  dispelled.  Dur- 
ing the  days  of  past  prosperity  she  had  shown  some  little 
adaptability  in  aping  the  styles  of  dress  and  manner  of 
a  certain  "smart"  class  of  women,  and  had  imagined 
herself  to  be  quite  a  model  of  elegance,  but  adversity 
had  brought  her  down  with  a  rush  to  a  point  very  much 

443 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

below  that  ambitious  high-water  mark,  and  in  the  proc- 
ess she  had  lost,  or  at  all  events  chosen  to  discard,  even 
that  neatness  and  housewifely  practicality  which  so 
strongly  characterize  the  French  bourgeoisie.  Both  ways 
she  was  now  a  declasse,  and  the  girl  who  had  worn 
cheap,  gay  dresses  and  had  travelled  in  her  mother's 
wake  to  horse-shows  and  sea-side  resorts  during  intervals 
of  competent  shop-tending,  or  the  fine  madam  who  had 
donned  Worth  tea-gowns  at  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
in  no  way  resembled  the  crushed,  resentful,  peevish,  un- 
happy woman  now  pacing  the  floor  behind  those  snow- 
blinded  windows. 

Kikette  was  up-stairs  playing  with  Mrs.  John's  two  lit- 
tle girls,  as  was  testified  by  the  loud  bumps  and  bounds 
overhead,  and  the  loud  yells  of  joy  which  now  and  again 
rent  the  muffled  silence  of  the  big  house.  Daylight  was 
rapidly  fading,  and  with  a  shiver  Rose  threw  a  log  on  the 
dying  fire  and  began  to  light  the  lamps — for  gas,  of  course, 
there  was  none  in  this  old-fashioned  modernity  of  a 
dwelling.  Just  as  she  was  fitting  to  a  none-too  carefully 
polished  lamp-globe  its  frayed  and  much-battered,  frilled 
shade,  the  jingle  of  spurs  and  the  creaking  of  a  door  made 
her  turn  round  to  see  Loic  enter,  accompanied  by  Teuss. 

"  Never  heard  of  such  luck  in  my  life!"  he  said,  wearily, 
throwing  his  fur-lined  top-coat  on  a  sofa,  and  walking 
to  the  fire,  which  he  kicked  into  something  like  brilliancy 
with  the  toe  of  his  boot.  "I'd  made  sure  I  would  win 
back  a  lot  of  what  I  had  lost  by  selling  Mirza  and  AH, 
next  month,  and,  now  they're  both  down  with  the  flue. 
Caught  cold  in  those  rattle-trap  stables,  and  it  '11  be  a 
miracle  if  I  pull  them  through." 

Rose  groaned,  and,  sinking  on  a  chair  near  the  table, 
exclaimed,  dismally: 

"Are  you  sure  that  they  have  really  got  influenza?" 

444 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

"Sure  as  fate!  I  don't  know  what  I'll  have  to  do! 
Chuck  up  the  whole  thing  most  likely,  for  I'm  about  stone 
broke." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?"  she  asked  again,  in  the 
same  doleful  voice. 

"It's  not  hard  to  understand,  I  should  think!"  he  re- 
torted, with  another  kick  at  the  logs.  "At  the  end  of 
my  tether,  that's  what  I  am,  put  in  plain  language. 
The  money  at  the  bank  is  at  an  end,  and  there  are  the 
debts  which  must  come  to — I'm  damned  if  I  know  to  how 
much — I  never  thought  I'd  be  dishonorable  enough  to 
run  into  debt;  but  the  devil's  against  me,  and  I  don't 
think  I  can  pull  out  this  trip." 

He  threw  his  cigarette  into  the  fire  with  an  air  of 
finality,  which  made  her  quake  where  she  cowered  on 
her  low  chair. 

"And  what  am  /  to  do  about  the  bills  and  the  ser- 
vant's wages  and  the  feedman  and  the  rent?  The  agent 
has  already  been  here  three  times,  and  he  is  threatening 
to  turn  us  out,"  she  moaned,  rising  and  drawing  nearer 
to  him  with  hands  imploringly  out-stretched,  as  if  ex- 
pecting to  have  him  fill  them  with  a  shower  of  gold. 

"How  am  I  to  know!"  he  repeated,  savagely.  "We 
owe  money  everywhere  it  seems  to  me.  Sharp  &  Cut- 
ting, the  grocer-butchers  or  butcher-grocers,  if  you  prefer 
it  that  way,  are  threatening  to  sue  me  if  I  don't  give 
them  at  once  a  substantial  sum — listen  to  that — a  sub- 
stan-tial  sum,  so  if  I  don't  hand  it  over — !" 

"It's  all  your  fault,  anyhow,"  gulped  Rose,  "with 
your  eternal  procession  of  spongers  who  drink  enough 
to  float  a  ship,  and  are  always  dining  or  lunching  here. 
Much  do  they  care  about  us  now!"  She  choked,  and 
then  continued,  in  a  voice  of  despair,  "And  the  neighbors, 
too;  these  Legrand  girls  who  live  here  more  than  at  their 

445 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

own  home,  and  whom  you  treat  like  Princesses,  because 
they  flatter  you  and  grovel  at  your  feet  making  calf's 
eyes." 

Loic,  who  was  now  pacing  restlessly  about  the  room, 
followed  step  by  step  by  Teuss,  the  ever-faithful,  flung 
round  and  faced  her. 

"Do  you  imagine  that  I  am  in  a  mood  to  listen  to  one 
of  your  jealous  rhapsodies!"  he  said,  fiercely.  "Was  it 
not  you  who  landed  the  whole  band  upon  my  shoulders, 
because  you  wished  to  prevent  that  pretty  little  Mrs. 
Clafton,  who  hates  them,  from  coming  to  learn  to  ride 
here.  There's  no  harm  in  those  Legrand  girls.  They 
are  good-natured  gawks,  and  were  very  kind  to  you 
when  you  were  ill  last  month,  and,  what's  more,  they  are 
much  more  your  friends  than  mine." 

"My  friends!"  Rose  almost  screamed;  "my  friends! 
They  give  me  a  limp  handshake  and  an  impertinent  stare 
apiece  when  they  arrive,  and  then  cluster  round  you 
while  I  sit  in  the  background  or  prepare  refreshments  for 
them.  Nice  friends,  indeed!" 

Loic  shrugged  his  shoulders  contemptuously.  "Since 
your  mind  appears  to  run  on  flirtations,"  he  retorted, 
"I  have  intended  to  warn  you  for  some  time  that  it  would 
behoove  you  to  keep  away  from  the  yard.  I  have  often 
a  whole  pack  of  people  there  that  are  not  fit  company 
for  a  decent  woman!  I'm  not  saying  a  word,  mind  you, 
against  horsemen  as  a  class.  I  know  dozens  worth  their 
weight  in  gold,  but  those  broken-down  jocks  and  ex- 
head-grooms,  whom  I  have  to  employ  for  the  sake  of 
cheapness,  are  in  with  a  different  lot,  and  I  dislike  your 
peregrinations  to  the  stables  at  all  hours." 

"You  let  Kikette  go  there  whenever  she  wants  to!" 
Rose  put  in,  acidly. 

"Kikette!     Just  as  if  that  had  anything  to  do  with 

446 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

it!  A  baby — but  with  you  it's  different.  I  don't  want 
to  hurt  your  feelings,  my  girl,  but  you  have  a  way  of 
engaging  them  in  a  lively  badinage  which  does  not  be- 
come my — my  wife." 

Rose  turned  crimson,  for  she  did  not  dream  that  Loic 
knew  of  those  little  visits  to  the  yard,  since  they  always 
took  place  when  she  thought  him  securely  out  of  the 
way.  She  was  perfectly  aware  that  the  fashion  in  which 
she  brightened  up  on  these  occasions  would  have  set  his 
teeth  on  edge,  but  somehow  or  other  she  felt  quite  in  her 
element  there,  she  was  free  to  giggle  and  gush  and  fish 
for  compliments  from  these  coarse-tongued  men,  who 
despised  her,  had  she  but  known  it,  for  a  wretched,  whim- 
pering coward  with  horses,  but  found  it  politic  to  in- 
gratiate themselves  with  "the  Missus,"  and  in  that  hope 
bandied  vulgar  witticisms  and  questionable  repartees 
with  her.  She  now  glanced  at  Loic  apprehensively,  for 
there  was  a  metallic  hardness  in  his  eyes  which  spelled 
anger.  The  more  she  tried  to  explain  now,  the  less  he 
would  believe  her,  and,  afraid  to  make  a  muddle  of  the 
whole  business,  she  tried  to  divert  the  current  of  his 
thoughts. 

"Is  it  necessary  to  have  six  men  permanently  in  the 
yard?"  she  asked,  dolefully. 

"Yes!" — in  a  tone  of  laconic  severity  that  put  an 
end  to  her  hopes  of  provoking  a  discussion  on  this  point. 

Hastily  changing  her  ground,  she  therefore  tried  again. 
"Why  don't  you  write  and  ask  your  beloved  sister  to 
help  you?" 

This  question  had  been  thrashed  threadbare  many 
times,  but  for  that  very  reason  it  might  now  serve  to  turn 
the  conversation. 

"Because  I  won't!"  he  replied,  frowning.  "She  sent 
an  extravagant  lot  of  presents  at  Christmas,  and  a  check 

447 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

"for  Kikette" — as  she  delicately  put  it — that  paid  all  the 
back  rent  and  many  things  besides.  You  could  manage 
much  better  if  you  wanted  to,  but  you  have  a  slack  hand 
and  you  are  hopelessly  unpractical.  John's  wife  is  the 
real  backbone  of  this  establishment.  She  alone  keeps 
things  together  after  a  fashion." 

"What  am  I  to  do  when  there  is  no  money  ?"  she  asked, 
in  tragic  accents. 

"Money  has  nothing  to  do  with  most  of  your  neglects!" 
Loic  retorted,  resuming  his  promenade  up  and  down  the 
room.  "Poverty  can  be  made  much  more  endurable 
than  you  make  it.  I  once  saw  a  great  lady,  who,  finding 
herself  suddenly  in  far  worse  straits  even  than  we  are  in 
now,  became  after  a  few  months  of  hardly  bought  ex- 
perience the  most  capable  and  graceful  of  common- 
sense  housekeepers,  and  what's  more  she  never  com- 
plained or  wept,  but  was  always  brave  and  cheery  and 
anxious  to  make  the  best  of  everything." 

Rose  gave  a  disdainful  shrug;  she  knew  who  he  was 
alluding  to,  and  this  only  added  to  her  rancor.  Straighten- 
ing herself  with  an  angry  flounce —  "You're  in  a  position 
to  cast  blame  on  others,  aren't  you  ?"  she  sneered.  "  God, 
but  I'm  sick  of  it  all!"  she  continued,  with  unwonted 
violence,  for  generally  sulkiness  and  martyr-like  postures 
were  her  favorite  weapons.  "  If  this  sort  of  thing  is  what 
you  brought  me  away  from  my  home  for,  I  wish  you'd 
left  me  there!  Even  Uncle  Lierre  and  Mamma  were  not 
as  cruel  as  you  are!" 

An  abrupt  gesture  of  Loic's  cut  short  the  rest  of  the 
tirade.  "Your — your  Mother — "  he  said,  in  a  low  voice, 
and  stood  as  if  transfixed,  gazing  at  her  in  utter  amaze- 
ment. 

Shortly  after  Kikette's  birth  a  vilely  written  anony- 
mous letter — no  doubt  the  work  of  Malghorn  or  Rivier — 

448 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

had  acquainted  him  with  the  all-but-fatal  tragedy  in 
the  marsh,  and  had  filled  him  with  almost  insurmount- 
able horror,  but  Rose  was  very  ill  at  the  time,  indeed, 
her  life  and  the  baby's  were  hanging  in  the  balance,  and 
there  could  be  no  thought  of  interrogating  her.  Later 
on,  a  supreme  feeling  of  delicacy,  backed  up  by  a  natural 
disinclination  to  pursue  the  question,  had  constrained 
him  to  silence,  although  he  had  often  wondered  that  she 
herself  should  not  once  have  tried  to  discover  whether 
her  mother  had  really  perished  in  that  awful  pit  of  quak- 
ing mud.  Until  to-day,  neither  her  name  nor  that  of  her 
uncle  had  ever  been  uttered  by  Rose,  and  that  she  should 
invoke  both  on  the  present  occasion,  and  in  such  a  wise, 
staggered  him  completely. 

Rose,  who  did  not  at  all  comprehend  what  was  pass- 
ing in  his  mind,  stared  at  his  extraordinarily  harsh  and 
contemptuous  face,  at  first  stupidly,  then  with  growing 
fright.  She  had  only  seen  him  look  like  that  on  some 
very  particular  occasions,  and  her  venomous  little  flame 
of  rage  went  out  with  abject  haste.  "Don't  be  angry, 
mon  petit  Loic,"  she  begged.  "I  swear  I  didn't  mean  it! 
I'm  sorry!  I  ought  to  have  remembered  that  you  are 
tired.  Ah,  yes,  you  are  tired — you  should  have  some- 
thing to  brace  you  up.  Voulez-vous  un  petit  grog  mon 
pauvre  Men?"  and  running  to  a  corner-closet  she  has- 
tened back  holding  a  brimming  glass  of  brandy,  but  with 
a  gesture  of  disgust  Loic  pushed  it  from  him,  and  for  a 
few  seconds  tragedy  hung  silently  suspended  in  that 
bleak,  shadow-filled  room. 

A  violent  ring  at  the  front-door  bell  interrupted  the 
scene. 

"  Heavens!  is  some  one  trying  to  tear  down  the  house  ?" 
Rose  cried,  though  her  heart  bounded  with  relief,  and 
setting  down  the  glass  she  ran  towards  the  hall,  where 

449 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

she  found  Mrs.  John  in  the  act  of  admitting  half  a  dozen 
girls,  who,  with  loud  laughs,  were  shaking  the  snow  from 
their  hoods  and  cloaks. 

"Oh,  my  dear  Mrs.  Rose,  don't  be  horrified  at  our  un- 
earthly appearance!"  exclaimed  their  leader,  an  aston- 
ishingly tall,  raw-boned  damsel,  with  a  pair  of  large,  dark 
eyes  and  a  set  of  beautiful  teeth  that  lighted  up  frankly 
ugly  features.  She  had  the  voice  of  an  excited  guinea- 
hen,  and,  rushing  past  her  hostess,  she  advanced  with  im- 
mense strides  towards  Loic  with  out-stretched  hands,  talk- 
ing all  the  time.  "Ha,  I  catch  you  tippling  all  by  your 
own  sweet  self  in  the  gloaming,  My  Lord!"  Loic,  thor- 
oughly unnerved,  was  gulping  down  the  last  drops  of  the 
brandy  Rose  had  brought  him,  to  conquer  the  sinking  feel- 
ing that  the  worries  of  the  day  and  the  scene  which  had 
just  taken  place  had  brought  about. 

That  sinking  feeling  was  not  new  to  him,  nor,  alas, 
was  its  hitherto  infallible  remedy! 

"Can't  me  have  a  weenie  little  nippy,  too?"  continued 
the  irrepressible  damsel,  squeezing  his  hand  as  if  it  had 
been  shut  in  a  door — her's  were  larger  than  his  own  and 
just  as  masculine — "me'se  so  vewy,  vewy  told,"  she  con- 
tinued, lisping  in  what  she  thought  the  most  babyish  and 
bewitching  fashion,  and  then  starting  to  dislocate  her 
five-foot-eleven  of  flat-bosomed  femininity  in  a  sort  of 
wild,  impromptu  dance,  which  she  called  her  "French 
cang-cang." 

"Bugler,  bugler,  sound  the  advance!"  yelled  her  com- 
panions, invading  the  drawing-room  with  a  musky  flut- 
ter of  skirts,  and  throwing  at  Loic  a  shower  of  little  snow- 
balls which  fell  in  every  direction,  and  promptly  began 
to  melt  on  all  the  chairs  and  tables. 

Reckless  of  mood  and  responding  to  the  whip-lash  of 
that  insane  bumper  of  raw  spirits,  he  retaliated  with  a 

45° 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

handful  of  cards,  picked  up  from  the  nearest  arm-chair 
where  Kikette  had  earlier  in  the  day  been  building  castles 
with  them;  and  the  fun  became  fast  and  furious,  the 
volleys  dying  away  in  dropping  shots  after  a  heated  en- 
gagement only  through  lack  of  ammunition,  and  after 
the  sofa-cushions  and  even  the  sporting  papers  and  books 
had  been  called  into  requisition.  Chairs  were  upset,  one 
curtain  had  been  pulled  down  from  its  rod,  and  the  empty 
whiskey -glass  lay  shivered  to  atoms  upon  the  carpet. 

Then  there  was  a  respite  during  which  "Goosie"  and 
"Tottie"  and  "Gussie"  and  "Gabbie"  and  especially 
"Carrie,"  their  leader — also  affectionately  denominated 
"Monkey" — manfully  partook  of  hot  spirits-and  water, 
"Monkey"  sitting  kittenishly  on  the  carpet  at  Loic's 
feet,  her  big  eyes  upturned,  assuring  him  that  she  felt 
like  hugging  him  for  being  "such  a  dear,  darling  duck 
of  an  Aristocrat." 

This  flattering  craving  was  not  as  mutual  as  Rose 
might  have  imagined,  however,  and,  to  tell  the  truth,  Loic 
felt  a  trifle  disgusted  as  well  as  exceedingly  ashamed  that 
he  had  allowed  himself  to  be  inveigled  into  such  fool's 
play,  and  greeted  with  positive  relief  the  sudden  appear- 
ance upon  the  scene  of  four  boisterous  and  horsey  gentle- 
men, loudly  proclaiming  that  the  car-lines  being  snowed- 
up,  they  were  forced  now  to  throw  themselves  upon  their 
good  friend's  hospitality  for  the  night. 

Rose,  with  an  agonized  look,  fled  to  investigate  the 
preparations  for  dinner,  while  "Monkey,"  rising  from 
the  floor  with  a  burst  of  hoydenish  laughter,  attacked 
one  of  them,  her  great  chum,  "Tommy -Tiddles,"  a 
diminutive  Scotchman  with  very  bright  blue  eyes  and 
a  very  red  face,  asking  him  whether  he  was  not  in  luck  to 
find  so  charming  a  refuge  in  heathenish  America.  "A 
sweet  place,  like  a  regular  corner  of  the  old  country,  you 

451 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

Scotch  broth  of  a  boy!"  she  cried,  waltzing  round  him 
with  Loic's  banjo,  upon  which  she  was  beating  as  on  a 
tambourine,  raised  high  above  her  head.  ''And  we,  too, 
are  all  'furriners'  here  assembled,  Scotch  and  'Oirish' 
and  Frenchy  and  'Dutch,'"  she  repeated,  "the  whole 
crew  of  us,  not  one  lanky  Yankee  among  us,  my  'Tommy 
TiddlesF  "  And  encircling  his  little  waist  with  her  power- 
ful arm,  she  lifted  him  from  the  floor,  giggling  hysteri- 
cally. 

"Oh,  come,  'Monkey,'  that's  not  fair!"  interposed 
'Tottie,'  her  face  heated  and  her  hair  coming  down  in 
dishevelled  tangles  about  her  shoulders.  "Don't  you 
know  that  Loic  adores  America?" — they  all  called  him 
Loic  in  moments  of  effusion. 

"He  don't!" 

"You're  both  ungrammatical  and  wrong.     He  do!" 

"No!" 

"Yes!" 

"No!" 

"I  appeal  to  'hisself!'" 

Loic  felt  inclined  to  box  their  ears,  but  restraining  this 
pardonable  inclination,  replied,  quietly:  "I  do  then! 
America  is  a  first-class  place  to  live  in.  I've  found  much 
kindness  here  and  a  long-sight  better  hearts  than  on  the 
other  side  of  the  water.  So  there!" 

"'Ear!  'Ear!"  clamored  half  a  dozen  voices.  "And 
what  shall  we  'ave  after  this  wery  nice  'armony?" 

"Bravo,  Loic!"  squealed  the  breathless  little  Scotch- 
man, stamping  his  feet  gleefully.  "Bravo!  Bravo!" 

"Not  at  all  bravo!"  screamed  "Monkey."  "His  'Lud- 
ship '  is  most  ungallant,  and  we  will  show  our  displeasure 
by  instant  departure.  Our  fond  parents  are  waiting 
dinner  for  us,  anyway,"  and  beckoning,  dramatically, 
to  the  rest  of  the  girls  scattered  about  the  room,  she 

452 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

commanded:  "Form  into  line!  Now,  one,  two,  three; 
one,  two,  three — mark  time — to  the  right-about,  forward, 
march!"  And  imitating  between  her  half -closed  teeth, 
with  lamentable  accuracy,  the  shrill  sounds  of  a  fife,  she 
headed  the  petticoated  patrol  into  the  hall,  and  from 
there  into  the  white  whirl  outside,  their  discordant  voices 
echoing  back  from  behind  the  dancing  snow-wreaths  for 
fully  five  minutes  before  they  were  at  last  swallowed  up 
in  that  of  the  increasing  storm. 

Meanwhile,  by  the  united  exertions  of  Rose,  Mrs.  John 
and  Mrs.  John's  eldest  boy — a  clever  little  lad  of  twelve — 
the  operation  of  getting  a  dinner  sufficient  for  so  many 
extra  mouths  was  going  ahead.  Rose  was  a  good  hand 
at  cooking  when  she  was  so  minded,  but  her  apprehen- 
sions were  great  while  conjecturing  whether  the  Boeuf 
a  la  mode  en  gelee,  which  was  her  masterpiece,  and  upon 
which  she  had  relied  for  Sunday,  would  prove  sufficient, 
and  whether  the  apple-tarts  Mrs.  John  was  turning  out 
could  be  made  to  go  round.  Loic  was  inexorably  hos- 
pitable, and,  manlike,  could  never  understand  why  the 
impromptu  arrival  of  half  a  dozen  guests  need  make  any 
difference.  Also,  as  she  well  knew,  he  was  determined 
that  the  table  appointments  should  always  be  as  perfect 
as  their  limited  resources  would  permit,  and  she  made 
several  anxious  excurisons  to  the  dining-room  in  an 
attempt  to  contrive  a  decorative  centre-piece  of  red 
apples  and  oranges,  since  all  the  hyacinth  and  Fresia- 
bulbs  which  Loic  had  planted  and  tended  for  that  pur- 
pose, in  a  pretty  majolica  jardiniere,  had  come  to  grief 
through  her  forgetting  for  two  consecutive  nights  to 
close  the  pantry  window  whereon  they  lived. 

Besides  "Tommy  Tiddles"  there  assembled,  an  hour 
later,  round  the  board  one  Boutey,  a  fat,  grandly  mus- 
tachioed Belgian,  who,  according  to  his  own  declarations, 

453 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

had  once  been — when,  he  did  not  state,  nor  for  how  long — 
the  most  prosperous  horse-dealer  in  King  Leopold's 
dominions!  Just  now,  as  he  enthusiastically  explained, 
he  was  on  the  point  of  concluding  a  huge  deal  with  his 
native  land  for  the  purchase  of  artillery-horses  in  Amer- 
ica. At  his  side  sat  a  clean-shaven,  bald  individual,  ex- 
cessively self-assertive  and  lavishly  provided  with  the 
outrecuidance  and  bagou  of  his  beloved  country  —  the 
south  of  France  —  and,  lastly,  a  thin,  haggard-looking 
Parisian,  and  a  pompous,  dark-bearded  man  with  a 
grandiloquent  way  of  talking  about  his  "place"  in  West- 
chester,  where,  if  one  was  to  believe  him,  "the  best  polo 
ponies  in  the  States,  Sir,"  were  to  be  found.  The  "place," 
by-the-way,  was  not  his,  and  he  merely  mismanaged  it 
for  a  blind  and  confiding  millionaire  who  knew  less  than 
nothing  about  either  polo  or  ponies,  but  since  he  claimed 
to  be  a  Norman — which  he  was  not — and  darkly  hinted 
at  the  frightful  reverses  which  had  forced  his  whole 
family  to  abandon  title  and  castles  and  himself  to  earn 
his  bread  by  the  sweat  of  his  brow,  it  would  have  been 
sheer  cruelty  not  to  try  and  help  him  bear  up  against 
these  undeserved  misfortunes  by  treating  him  always 
with  the  utmost  kindness  and  deference.  Indeed,  so  suc- 
cessful did  Loic's  efforts  in  that  direction  prove  that  on 
this  particular  occasion  he  unbent  to  the  extent  of  sing- 
ing at  dessert,  for  the  benefit  of  the  delighted  Kikette, 
a  comic  song  accompanied  by  a  measured  tinkle  of  his 
knife  blade  on  the  rim  of  his  finger-bowl,  the  refrain: 

"  Et  Milor  etait  meltde,  trts  metede,  bien  melede!" 

as  well  as  the  sea-sick  gurgles  of  a  "Milor"  crossing  the 
Channel  under  difficulties,  being  rendered  with  such  in- 
tense realism  that  he  literally  convulsed  the  company, 
all  excepting  Loic,  who  endeavored  to  conceal  his  lack 

454 


THE    TRIDENT    AND   THE    NET 

of  appreciation,  since  for  once  in  a  way  he  had  the  oppor- 
tunity of  seeing  Rose  literally  choking  with  laughter. 
She  had  never  enjoyed  herself  better,  as  she  remarked 
while  wiping  the  tears  from  her  eyes. 

However,  she  shortly  afterwards  left  the  gentlemen 
to  their  wine — there  was  plenty  of  it,  never  fear — in 
order  to  carry  the  struggling  Kikette  to  bed,  and  as  soon 
as  she  was  alone  with  her  in  the  great,  gloomy  bedroom, 
immediately  above,  she  instantly  relapsed  into  her  usual 
despondent  mood,  and  began  once  more  to  dwell  with 
intense  bitterness  upon  the  future  which  she  felt  certain 
would  bring  her  nothing  but  neglect,  injustice,  desperate 
misery,  and  final  ruin! 

Kikette,  kneeling  beside  her  little  blue-and-white  bed, 
was  saying  her  prayers,  the  old  Breton  prayers  taught 
her  as  soon  as  she  could  speak,  by  her  father,  perhaps 
more  because  of  dear  personal  souvenirs  of  what  he  and 
Gaidik  had  been  used  to  repeat  night  and  morning  than 
from  any  sense  of  duty,  while  through  the  floor  there  rose 
the  muffled  refrain  of  another  comic  song  with  which 
"Tommy"  was  now  favoring  his  host,  and  the  rousing 
chorus  of  which  was: 

"  And  'er  golden  'air  was  a'anging  down  'er  back!" 

"Tommy"  was  inimitable  at  comic  songs. 

Probably  the  words  reminded  Rose  of  "Monkey"  and 
her  band,  for  just  as  Kikette  was  about  to  rise  from  her 
knees,  she  put  her  hand  on  the  child's  shoulder,  and 
whispered : 

"  Here,  repeat  after  me:  'Bless  my  dear  Papa  and  make 
him  give  up  the  bad  women  who  take  him  away  from 
Mamma.' '  Mechanically  the  little  thing  obeyed,  but 
suddenly  she  stopped,  and  looking  in  her  fluffy,  white 
night-gown,  like  some  miniature  avenging  angel,  she 

455 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

jumped  up,  and  turning  upon  her  mother  a  pair  of  flash- 
ing gray  eyes,  startlingly  identical  in  harshness  and  con- 
tempt with  those  Rose  saw  so  frequently  now  burning 
in  Loic's  face,  exclaimed,  furiously: 

"Papa  would  not  let  himself  be  taken  away!  You 
mustn't  make  me  say  lies  like  that!"  The  scorn  on  her 
small,  pink  face  was  scathing,  and  Rose  collapsed. 

"  And  'er  golden  'air  was  a'anging  down  'er  back!" 

"Tommy"  was  blithely  singing  down-stairs. 

"You  won't  tell  Papa,  darling,"  the  mother  implored, 
kneeling  beside  her  angry  child.  "Promise,  and  I'll  give 
you  lots  of  bonbons!"  But  Kikette  was  not  so  easily  to 
be  appeased,  and  for  some  time  after  she  had  been  tucked 
within  her  azure  blankets,  she  still  kept  bouncing  in- 
dignantly about,  glaring  wide-eyed  at  her  mother's  fig- 
ure silhouetted  against  the  window,  through  which  she 
was  staring  sullenly  at  the  whitened  darkness  without. 

An  hour  or  so  later,  a  startling  uproar  ascended  from 
below,  the  angry  snarl  of  voices  raised  to  their  highest 
pitch  making  every  word  plainly  discernible,  and  Rose, 
who  had  been  sitting  moodily  in  the  night-lamp-lighted 
room,  jumped  up  with  startled  eyes  and  blanched  cheeks 
and  opened  the  door,  murmuring,  "My  God,  they  are 
quarrelling — what  can  it  be!" 

The  tumult  still  increased,  then  there  was  the  sound  of 
a  dog's  angry  growl,  and  Loic's  masterful  tones,  saying, 
"You'd  beat  my  dog,  would  you — "  then  the  crash  of 
somebody  being  forcibly  separated  from  his  chair. 

Kikette  had  awakened  with  a  start,  and  was  now  sitting 
bolt  upright  in  bed  listening. 

"Oh,  Kikette,  they're  killing  each  other  down  there!" 
the  judicious  mother  cried,  agonized  with  terror.  "Go 
and  call  Papa  away;  I  daren't!" 

456 


THE    TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

Swift  as  a  swooping  swallow  the  child  jumped  out  of 
bed,  her  glorious  hair  ruffled  into  a  shining  aureole.  "I'm 
not  afraid  of  them!"  she  said,  contemptuously,  and  hold- 
ing up  her  long  night-gown  with  one  chubby  hand,  she 
ran  out  of  the  room,  the  sound  of  her  little  bare  feet 
paddling  briskly  down-stairs  being  immediately  followed 
by  the  opening  of  the  dining-room  door.  All  this  had 
happened  so  quickly  that  Loic  was  still  holding  the 
would-be  Norman  Nobleman  by  the  scruff  of  the  neck, 
while  "Tommy"  hung  desperately  to  Teuss's  collar — the 
dog  was  not  an  easy  brute  to  restrain  when  once  roused. 
On  the  floor  lay  a  broken  chair,  and  from  an  overturned 
bottle  of  whiskey  a  stream  of  liquid  gold  bubbled  on  to 
the  carpet. 

"Papa,  come  here  at  once!"  an  imperious  baby  voice 
cried  from  the  threshold,  the  peremptoriness  of  the 
order  emphasized  by  the  angry  stamp  of  a  rosy,  dimpled 
foot  brought  down  with  all  the  force  of  that  muscular, 
healthy  little  body. 

Loic  let  go  of  the  Norman's  coat-collar  with  such  sud- 
denness that  the  drunken  carcass  rolled  heavily  back- 
ward, and  lay  supine  beside  the  streaming  whiskey, 
then  catching  his  breath,  as  if  he  had  himself  received  a 
heavy  blow,  he  sprang  over  the  ruins  of  the  chair,  snatched 
Kikette  up,  and  with  a  stifled  sob  of  despair  and  shame 
raced  up-stairs  holding  her  tightly  in  his  arms. 

Rose,  huddled  against  the  bedroom  door,  made  way 
for  them,  speechless  with  fear,  her  legs  trembling  so  much 
that  she  could  barely  stand,  for  one  look  at  Loic's  face 
had  been  enough  to  show  her  what  manner  of  fury  she 
had  roused  by  sending  the  child  down. 

"Did  you  do  this?"  he  said,   facing  round  fiercely, 
Kikette  still  clasped  close  to  his  breast.     He  spoke  be- 
tween clinched  teeth,  and  his  lips  were  chalk-white. 
30  457 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

Rose  tried  to  answer,  but  her  mouth  only  twitched, 
and  no  sound  came. 

"You  deserve,"  continued  the  low  voice,  laden  with 
unspeakable  rage  and  contempt—  "you  deserve  —  oh,  I 
don't  know  what  you  deserve,  you  coward!"  and,  passing 
her  by,  he  carried  Kikette  into  his  own  room,  slamming 
the  door  so  violently  after  him  that  the  glass  of  one 
window  fell  in  with  a  crash,  followed  by  a  whirl  of  dan- 
cing snow-flakes,  and  a  blast  of  wind  which  extinguished 
the  lamp. 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

Life  was  host  here,  at  his  call 
Came  the  merry  spirits  all, 
Elfins  of  the  middle  air 
Leagued  against  the  lurker  Care: 
Led  by  Youth  in  dance  along 
Jest  and  Laughter,  Joy  and  Song 
Held  revel  here,  whereof  there  calls 
No  echo  from  these  ruined  walls. 
Out  are  the  torches,  and  the  still 
Chambers,  the  empty  wind  doth  fill 
And  the  room  of  airy  powers 
Ashes,  heaped  by  mocking  Hours. 

On  a  skull.— M.  M. 

ANOTHER  weary  day  had  dragged  almost  to  its  close, 
and  Rose,  once  more  was  pacing  the  drawing-room,  feel- 
ing all  about  her  the  stillness  of  an  impending  crisis. 
It  was  not  snowing  now,  but  the  whole  country  lay 
motionless  and  dreary  beneath  a  heavy  white  mantle, 
and  across  the  gray  sky  a  troop  of  crows  scientifically 
wheeled  and  manoeuvred,  while  far  above  the  summits 
of  the  darkly  pencilled  pines,  a  single  sable  bird  seemed 
to  be  circling  upon  a  sentinel  round,  and  calling  out  orders 
to  the  rest  in  a  peremptory,  saw  -  like  voice.  Every 
branch  stood  motionless  under  its  burden  of  frozen 
crystals,  and  Rose  shivered  every  time  she  passed  be- 
fore the  windows  and  glanced  hatefully  at  this  immobile 
landscape,  which  a  true  lover  of  nature  must  have  ad- 
mired in  its  whitened,  silent  grandeur.  Loic  and  Kikette 
were  away  with  the  Legrands,  he  for  the  sake  of  his  little 

459 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

maid  having  accepted  an  invitation  to  a  sleighing-party, 
and  a  twenty-four-hours'  stay  with  some  friends  at  a 
considerable  distance  away,  which  she,  Rose,  in  a  fit  of 
perversity,  had  stubbornly  refused  to  join. 

Suddenly  the  door  was  violently  thrown  open,  and 
Mrs.  John  rushed  in,  white  and  excited.  "Mum!"  she 
stammered,  "the  sheriff  and  four  men  are  coming  up 
the  path.  John  is  afther  mating  thim  by  the  gate,  and 
they  say  as  they  are  going  to  sell  iverything  here  over 
our  heads." 

Rose  walked  unsteadily  to  the  nearest  chair  and  sat 
down  heavily.  So  the  blow  had  fallen  at  last!  What 
was  she  to  do  now?  Where  could  she  hide  herself? 

"We  kin  lock  thim  devils  out!"  Mrs.  John  continued, 
volubly,  her  self-possession  reasserting  itself.  "Sure 
Teuss  wouldn't  let  any  one  touch  the  door,  and  me  and 
John  can  shpake  to  thim  from  the  upper  hall-window, 
and  tell  thim  that  the  master  not  being  here,  we  can't 
let  thim  in.  But  what  ails  ye,  Mum  ?  Faix  ye  mustn't 
go  and  faint  now;  the  Lord  knows  it  ain't  the  time 
to  do  that,  nor  to  keep  your  tongue  froze  in  yer 
head!" 

No  answer  beyond  a  look  of  pale  horror. 

"Save  us  and  send  us!"  poor  Mrs.  John  cried,  utterly 
nonplussed,  and  shaking  Rose  rhythmically  by  the 
shoulder.  "You're  looking  own  sister  to  a  corpse,  and 
here  they  are,  too!"  as  a  loud  ring  echoed  through  the 
house.  "What  d'  ye  want  done,  thin?" 

Again  the  bell  was  pulled  wellnigh  out  of  its  socket, 
and  Rose  closed  her  eyes  tightly  and  drew  in  her  head 
between  her  shoulders  like  a  turtle  warding  off  a  blow, 
at  which  show  of  cowardice  Mrs.  John  could  not  conceal 
her  indignation. 

"And  is  it  that  ye've  no  backbone  at  all  —  at  all!" 

460 


THE   TRIDENT    AND   THE    NET 

she  scolded.  "Faix,  thin,  I'll  go  and  shpake  to  thim  mis- 
self.  I  know  thim  well.  Haven't  I  come  here  a  young 
married  woman  and  reared  five  fine  childer  right  on 
this  very  place?  The  shame  of  it,  the  shame  of  it!  And 
'tis  yourself  as  ought  to  rout  thim  out,  glory  be  to  God!" 
And  straightening  her  own  back  with  grim  determina- 
tion, she  gave  up  the  attempt  to  rouse  her  mistress,  and 
departed  to  ''shpake  to  thim  divils,"  according  to  her 
programme. 

Meanwhile,  Rose,  her  hands  clasped  convulsively  to- 
gether, still  shivered  and  quaked  in  her  chair.  It  was  a 
terribly  nasty  business  all  round,  and  she  was,  alas,  not 
the  woman  to  bravely  face  so  desperate  a  situation;  but 
suddenly  she  looked  up  with  a  flash  of  hope.  Teuss,  all 
his  great  fangs  bared,  was  standing  before  her  protect- 
ingly,  his  hackles  on  end,  a  fire  of  rising  rage  turning 
his  beautiful,  golden  eyes  into  live  coals.  And  twining  her 
cold,  trembling  fingers  into  his  collar,  she  at  last  rose  to 
her  feet  just  as  Mrs.  John  came  running  back,  her  face 
now  scarlet  with  wrath,  crying: 

"They're  commanding  every  wan  about  as  empariouS 
as  Lords ;  they  ordered  the  horses  out,  and  some  of  thim 
are  running  thim  down  like  the  wind  to  the  village.  Ye 
must  face  the  sheriff,  Mum ;  sure  he  won't  ate  ye,  or  he'll 
be  capturing  us  also,  bad  cess  to  him!" 

At  that  moment  John  himself  came  in  looking  un- 
usually serious,  and  wearing  his  Sunday  coat  over  his 
stable  clothes. 

"The  sheriff  must  shpake  wid  ye,  Mum,"  he  said,  very 
stiffly,  "the  master  not  being  here!"  and,  accepting  silence 
for  consent,  he  vanished,  while  his  wife  and  Rose,  between 
them,  held  Teuss  back  from  hurling  himself  after  him  to 
the  rescue. 

Two  minutes  later  a  tall,  red-whiskered  man,  with 

461 


THE   TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

prominent  blue  eyes  and  a  splendid  watch-chain,  was 
ushered  into  the  room. 

"Ah,"  he  said,  looking  sharply  at  Rose,  "Mrs.  Cur- 
gote?" 

Rose  bowed  awkwardly,  and  said  "  yes  "  in  a  faint  voice. 

"I'm  here,  Ma'am  with  a  writ  of  execution  from  Sharp 
&  Cutter's,  general  purveyors,  empowered  to  seize  your 
husband's  goods  and  chattels.  I've  already  attached  a 
fur  overcoat  in  the  hall,  and  sent  the  horses  and  car- 
riages away.  Is  the  house  furniture  in  your  name?" 

Rose's  face  became  flame-color.  She  misinterpreted  the 
question,  but  her  interlocutor  took  a  mistaken  view  of 
that  flush,  and,  thinking  it  the  result  of  virtuous  indig- 
nation, said,  in  a  milder,  almost  kindly  tone: 

"Well,  it's  often  done  to  preserve  the  wife's  interests. 
Was  it  bought  in  your  name,  Ma'am?" 

"What,  ze  furniture?"  she  asked,  confusedly.  "No, 
no,  everything  belongs  to  my  'usband!"  And  then  all 
of  a  sudden  the  hitherto  bewildered  and  terrified  woman, 
encouraged  by  the  deputy-sheriff's  unexpected  friendli- 
ness, raised  her  head  and  spoke.  "It  ees  a  shame!"  she 
cried,  now  absolutely  shaking  with  rage.  "My  'usband 
ees  a  Nobleman,  un  Aristocrate,  a  Marquis!  Do  you  bnder- 
stan'  ?  I  am  ze  Marquise  de  Kergoat ;  if  you  do  not  be- 
lieve me  look  at  zis — "  pointing  at  a  brooch  made  from 
one  of  Loic's  breast-pins,  a  pretty  little  enamelled  coronet, 
set  with  diamonds,  which  fastened  her  dingy  dressing- 
gown.  "Ze  de  Kergoats  'ave  millions.  My  sister-in-law 
ees  a  Duchess,  do  you  'ear,  scound-r-rele — and  you'll  be 
punishe  for  zis  outrage  cette  abomination!"  Teuss,  as 
if  he  wished  to  protest  against  this  astonishing  indis- 
cretion, and  preferred  to  personally  interfere,  gave  a  low, 
threatening  growl,  and  the  deputy-sheriff  stepped  back. 

"You  hold  that  dog,"  he  said,  angrily,  "and  don't  you 

462 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

try  to  frighten  me  with  your  rigmaroles.  I  don't  care 
a  rap  who  your  sister-in-law  is  or  your  husband,  either, 
for  the  matter  of  that.  He  owes  money  and  must  pay, 
that's  all  I  know.  Have  you  the  cash  to  settle?  No! 
Well,  then,  I  must  do  my  duty.  I  wasn't  inclined  to  be 
hard  on  you,  but  I  don't  like  your  tone,  my  young  lady, 
and  I  want  none  of  your  impudence." 

Once  more  Rose  collapsed;  her  attempt  at  what  she 
mistook  for  the  hauteur  befitting  a  great  lady  having 
proved  a  failure,  she  instantly  resorted  to  wheedling  and 
tears.  "Oh,  Monsieur,  I  did  not  mean  to  insult  you; 
pleaze,  pleaze  forgive  me!"  she  stammered,  beginning  to 
sob  bitterly. 

Mrs.  John,  looking  on  in  disgust,  turned  to  the  deputy. 
"She  don't  know  any  better,  Mr.  Hook!"  she  said,  in  a 
vigorous  whisper.  "The  boss  is  different;  it's  a  pity  he 
ain't  here!  Tell  me  and  John  what's  doing  and  we'll 
'tend  to  it.  This  sort  of  work  won't  do  at  all,  at  all,  and 
don't  torment  her  any  further,  Sir,  av  ye  please,  the  poor 
crature." 

"Ah,  now,  that's  more  like  business!"  he  willingly 
approved,  his  anger  fading  at  once  before  her  good 
sense.  "Go  and  separate  all  her  personal  belongings 
and  the  child's  from  the  rest;  you  can  put  aside  the 
gent's  clothing,  too." 

"What  about  his  fur-coat,  thin?"  Mrs.  John  stoutly 
interrupted. 

"That's  a  luxury;  he  don't  need  it,"  the  officer  of  the 
law  retorted,  smartly;  "but  hold  on,  I'll  go  with  you  and 
show  you  what  to  take  and  what  to  leave,"  and  uncere- 
moniously turning  his  back  upon  "  Madame  la  Marquise," 
he  followed  the  grenadier-like  figure  of  Mrs.  John  up -stairs, 
Rose,  still  convulsed  with  weeping,  letting  them  go  with- 
out raising  a  finger  to  detain  them. 

463 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

What  was  she  to  do,  she  thought,  desperately  ?  Could 
she  remain  in  that  dismantled  house  to  await  Loic's  re- 
turn? No,  she  had  best  join  him  at  once  and  tell  him 
what  had  happened.  Oh,  why  had  she  not  disobeyed 
and  written  to  Gaidik?  To  be  sure  Loic  would  never 
have  forgiven  it,  not  only  as  a  transgression  of  his  in- 
dependent principles,  but  because  the  affection  of  these 
two,  strong  and  jealous  as  ever,  was  a  sort  of  sacred 
ground  upon  which  one  trod  only  at  one's  imminent 
peril ;  but  would  not  even  that  peril  have  been  preferable 
to  what  had  just  happened  ?  She  leaned  her  elbows  on 
the  nearest  table  and  tried  hard  to  think.  It  was  im- 
perative for  her  to  come  to  some  decision — now,  at  once. 
She  felt  that  she  could  not  seek  advice  from  the  Johns, 
to  whom,  moreover,  a  large  amount  of  wage  was  due. 
Could  she  "sneak"  her  coat  and  hat  from  up -stairs  and 
make  good  her  escape  without  being  noticed? 

On  tiptoe  and  holding  on  for  protection  to  Teuss's 
collar,  she  stole  into  the  hall  and  listened.  The  voices 
of  the  party  above  were  distinctly  audible  floating  down 
through  the  open  doors  of  Kikette's  little  room. 

"It's  himself  as  would  be  cut  to  the  heart  to  see  the 
darlin's  bed  go!"  Mrs.  John  was  saying;  then  again,  after 
some  less  distinct  sentence  in  a  man's  deep  tones,  her 
somewhat  piercing  notes  were  raised  in  protest.  "Och, 
don't  take  her  silver  mouse!  Poor  little  spalpeen!  We 
call  her  'Mouse,'  too,  because  she's  so  quick  and  cliver, 
an'  she  has  lashin's  of  mice  for  toys.  Saints  alive,  he 
buys  her  iverythin'  she  wants;  he  is  a  nate  an'  lovely 
young  man — '  Rose  stopped  to  hear  no  more,  but, 
dragging  Teuss  after  her,  crept  step  by  step  up  the  back 
stairs  to  her  own  room,  where  she  hurriedly  dressed  her- 
self in  a  warm  gown  and  cloak,  and  without  even  think- 
ing of  putting  a  few  necessaries  in  a  hand-bag,  snatched  up 

464 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

her  meagre  purse  and  Teuss's  leash,  and  silently  slipped 
from  the  house  by  one  of  the  French  windows  of  the 
empty  drawing-room. 

From  the  lower  drive  a  sheriff's  officer  espied  her — 
he  had  been  watching  there  for  some  time — and  as  she 
hurried  along  with  her  formidable  escort  he  stepped  forth 
and  barred  the  road. 

"You  can't  take  that  dog  away;  he  is  valuable  proper- 
ty," he  said,  holding  out  his  hand  for  the  leash,  but 
Teuss,  firmly  planted  on  his  four  strong,  tenacious  feet, 
gave  so  ominous  a  growl  that  the  man  fell  back  in  dis- 
may. 

"Don't  touch  'eem,  'e  vould  keel  you!"  Rose  cried, 
terror-stricken,  and,  profiting  by  the  man's  bewilderment, 
she  flew  past  him  and  ran  down  the  long,  snow-packed 
path,  weird  with  the  suggestive  shadows  thrown  by  its 
tall,  double  hedges.  Once  she  ventured  to  look  back 
over  her  shoulder,  and  shuddered  as  she  saw  lights  mov- 
ing behind  the  windows  of  the  grim  old  house.  Surely 
the  search  for  her  had  already  begun,  and  again  she  ran 
as  she  had  never  run  in  her  life  before,  save  once  from 
a  woman  drowning  in  the  fetid  ooze  of  a  great  Vendeen 
marsh. 

******* 

Six  miles  from  the  railway,  in  a  ramshackle  farm- 
house, which  one  approached  by  a  dismal  "dirt  road," 
deeply  rutted  with  wagon-wheels,  Loic  and  Kikette  and 
Rose  found  a  refuge  in  their  distress.  "Tommy  Tiddles" 
had  boarded  there  one  summer  "for  a  song,"  as  he 
graphically  and  truthfully  put  it,  for  little  else  had  he 
ever  paid,  and  it  was  he  who,  much  moved  by  his  friends' 
misfortunes — for  he  was  really  not  a  bad-hearted  lad — 
had  recommended  the  place  to  them. 

The  first  impression  that  one  received  upon  entering 

465 


THE    TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

the  house  was  due  to  an  overpowering  odor  of  eternally 
boiling  corned-beef  and  cabbage  diluted  with  the  effluvia 
from  the  neighboring  cow-stables;  the  second — for  the 
senses  were  dulled  to  intervening  phenomena  —  was  af- 
forded by  a  glimpse  into  a  parlor  of  prim,  chill,  stiff 
neatness,  furnished  in  battered,  "Early-Victorian"  ma- 
hogany and  horsehair,  and  more  resembling  a  meeting- 
house than  a  habitable  room.  There  was  a  bare  little 
entrance-hall,  papered  some  decades  back  in  merciless 
blues  and  yellows,  a  frowsy  living-room,  littered  with 
the  belongings  of  all  its  daily  inmates,  and,  finally,  a 
nearly  perpendicular  staircase  leading  to  the  upper  floor, 
which  was  divided  into  what  "Tommy"  called  the 
rabbit-hutches — i.e.,  a  dozen  tiny,  low-ceiled,  white- 
washed rooms,  six  of  which  were  rented  to  "city-folks" 
during  the  summer  months,  and  the  remaining  six  oc- 
cupied all  the  year  round  by  the  worthy  farmer,  his  good- 
natured,  corpulent  wife,  their  two  sons,  and  four  stalwart 
daughters. 

Outwardly  the  farmstead  was  not  a  thing  of  beauty,  like 
its  namesakes  of  England  and  France — which,  verdure- 
bowered  and  vine-clad,  spread  their  idyllic  charm  over 
many  picturesque  miles.  One  came  upon  it  suddenly, 
at  the  end  of  the  above-mentioned,  tortuous,  deep-rutted 
road,  in  all  its  unadorned  nakedness;  first,  a  great,  dingy, 
yellow  barn,  then  a  dilapidated  cowshed,  with  a  gigantic 
pile  of  all  manner  of  refuse — the  delight  of  the  chickens 
and  ducks — at  its  entrance,  and,  finally,  huddling  into  the 
other  buildings  as  if  thoroughly  ashamed  of  its  ugliness, 
the  dwelling  itself,  a  square  frame-house,  painted  in  the 
same  butter -tint  as  the  barn,  and,  like  it,  long  since 
streaked  with  the  lamentable  black  finger-marks  of  rain 
and  storm. 

The  farmer  was  a  tall,  spare  man,  with  a  hatchet  face 

466 


THE    TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

and  an  excellent  heart,  which  he  took  the  greatest  pains 
to  conceal  beneath  unpleasantly  boorish  manners.  His 
wife  was  short  and  stout,  and  of  an  equally  kindly  tem- 
per, and  the  boys  and  girls  were  simple-minded,  good- 
natured  young  people  who  soon  adored  Kikette,  pros- 
trated themselves  before  Loic,  and  did  their  best  to 
console  and  cheer  the  drooping  Rose,  who,  since  her 
eventful  flight  from  Cinnamon  Hill,  spent  her  life  in  tears 
and  lamentations. 

The  wreck  of  Loic's  fortunes  was  now  complete;  noth- 
ing remained  to  him  from  all  that  had  been  his  save  his 
clothes,  a  boxful  of  papers  and  photographs,  Gaidik's 
picture  and  miniature — saved  as  by  a  miracle  through 
Tommy's  energetic  agency — and,  lastly,  his  beloved  Teuss. 
Kikette  and  Rose's  clothes  had  been  rescued,  too,  but 
that  was  all;  and,  without  money,  without  hope,  without 
help  from  any  source,  he  set  himself  once  more  to  the 
bitter  task  of  trying  to  find  a  place  at  some  of  New  York's 
riding-schools,  in  order  to  earn  wherewithal  to  pay  for 
their  board  at  Caulfield's  Farm. 

Wearily,  day  after  day,  he  rose  at  five,  and,  when  un- 
able to  get  a  lift  on  one  of  the  milk-wagons  going  to  the 
station  with  their  noisily  rattling  cans,  would  tramp  it 
along  the  snow -covered  roads.  When  he  started,  the 
short  winter  day  had  not  begun  to  break,  and  the  heavy, 
sluggish  darkness  hung  over  the  land,  making  walking  a 
difficult  matter.  The  weather  was  still  very  cold,  and 
he  sorely  missed  his  fur  coat,  which  he  had  left  at  home 
to  be  seized  by  the  sheriff,  having  donned  that  day  a 
short,  wolf-hide  jacket,  preferable  for  sleighing  purposes, 
and  which,  alas,  was  now  in  pawn. 

It  was  now  that  he  began  to  realize  the  loss  of  a  cer- 
tain physical  elasticity,  a  certain  unwearied  freshness  of 
strength  that  he  had  always  possessed.  Troubles  and 

467 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

disappointments  had  begun  to  tell  even  upon  his  iron 
constitution,  additionally  undermined  by  constant  im- 
prudences, over-fatigue,  an  absolute  disregard  for  any 
sort  of  regularity  in  eating  his  meals,  and  frequent  doses 
of  stimulants  taken  when  he  had  no  time  and  often 
no  money  to  go  to  a  restaurant,  or  when  he  thought  it 
necessary  to  propitiate  possible  employers  by  treating 
them  frequently  and  generously — for  generous  he  always 
was  to  the  point  of  recklessness,  whatever  the  state  of 
his  own  finances  might  be.  He  reasoned  with  himself 
about  his  weaknesses  and  deficiencies  during  these  long 
tramps  through  drowsy  country  lanes  and  along  the 
crowded  streets  of  the  huge,  selfish  city,  reasoned  with 
himself  until  his  gnawing  anxieties  became  dulled  by 
fatigue,  and  it  was  only  by  a  violent  effort  that  he  would 
pull  himself  together  and  straighten  his  shoulders  to 
enter  with  his  old,  proud,  devil-may-care  bearing  the 
various  establishments  where  he  still  hoped  against  hope 
to  obtain  remunerative  work. 

One  cold,  bitter  night,  when  the  densely  falling  snow 
was  whirled  in  a  wild  waltz  by  a  headlong  wind  and  piled 
in  deep  drifts  on  streets  and  housetops,  Loic,  footsore 
and  deadly  weary,  was  trudging  down  Eighth  Avenue 
along  the  park  wall.  He  had  been  detained  far  beyond 
his  usual  time  by  the  owner  of  a  small  horse-dealing  es- 
tablishment in  Harlem,  who  seemed  inclined  to  accept 
his  services,  and,  having  thus  lost  all  chance  of  catching 
the  last  train  out  to  Caulfield's  Farm,  was  now  on  his 
way  to  seek  a  night's  lodging  at  some  cheap  hotel  down- 
town. With  his  shoulders  hunched  and  his  chin  upon 
his  breast,  he  plodded  obstinately  against  the  blinding 
gusts  upon  the  long,  weary  journey  necessitated  by  his 
lack  of  car-fare,  his  mind  burdened  with  gloomy  thoughts. 
He  was  feeling  particularly  unequal  to  the  struggle  of 

468 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

life,  unusually  useless  and  inapt,  hot  with  rage  at  cir- 
cumstances, and  with  contempt  of  himself  because  he 
had  but  one  talent  to  offer  the  world  in  exchange  for  a 
living,  and  that,  one  which  the  world  seemed  to  hold  in 
slight  esteem. 

Stopping  to  take  breath  and  to  straighten  his  aching 
neck  as  he  reached  Fifty-ninth  Street,  he  suddenly  be- 
came aware  that  a  new  roar  was  overtopping  that  of 
the  storm,  sweeping  across  the  deserted  streets  with  an 
even  fiercer  blast  than  that  of  the  wind,  and,  wiping  the 
moisture  from  his  eyes,  he  saw  above  the  housetops  a 
red  glow  burning  through  the  snow-shroud  in  the  direc- 
tion of  Fifth  Avenue.  At  once  his  heart  gave  a  leap, 
and,  forgetting  his  fatigue,  he  started  across  town  at  a 
run,  in  obedience  to  an  impulse  that  was  at  first  instinc- 
tive, but  gradually  formulated  itself  as  he  dashed  on 
through  the  white,  whirling  veil. 

It  was  a  big  hotel  which  was  on  fire,  one  where,  years 
before,  during  his  first  trip  to  America,  he  had  spent 
some  pleasurable  and  amusing  weeks.  From  the  roof 
thick  volumes  of  black  smoke  were  belching  forth,  lined 
with  vivid  crimson  by  the  roaring  flames  below,  while 
at  the  wide-open  windows  the  half-clad  forms  of  frenzied 
men  and  women  could  plainly  be  discerned,  yelling  wide- 
mouthed  for  assistance.  The  sidewalks  were  thronged 
with  weeping,  shrieking  women,  wearing,  for  the  most 
part,  little  besides  their  night-gowns,  and  holding  con- 
vulsively to  their  breasts  the  few  valuables  that  they  had 
snatched  up  when  aroused  from  their  first  slumbers  by 
the  terrifying  cry  of  "Fire!"  while  others  were  throwing 
satchels  and  even  valises  and  light  trunks  into  the  street, 
thus  grievously  endangering  the  lives  of  the  firemen 
heroically  swarming  towards  the  burning-hot  walls,  axe 
and  rope  in  hand.  Trucks  and  engines  were  thundering 

469 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

up  from  all  directions,  for  the  dreaded  "Third  Alarm" 
had  some  time  since  been  sounded ;  but  even  the  splendid 
New  York  Fire  Department  was  for  once  wellnigh  pow- 
erless in  the  face  of  that  hurricane  of  smoke  and  flames. 

Fully  a  dozen  engines  were  at  work  now,  puffing  and 
pumping  imperturbably,  and  adding  their  ear-piercing 
whistles  to  the  appalling  hubbub,  while  the  red  cinders 
from  their  furnaces  sizzled  and  went  out  with  a  succes- 
sion of  tiny  breaths  of  expiring  steam  in  the  black  slush 
of  fast-melting  snow-drifts. 

A  fierce  joy  ran  through  Loic's  veins  like  a  generous 
wine,  and  the  thought  that  had  been  shaping  itself  in 
his  mind  sprang  to  his  lips:  "Here,  at  least,  is  something 
I  can  do!" 

Without  an  instant's  hesitation  he  made  use  of  his 
powerful  shoulders  to  force  a  way  through  the  surging 
crowd,  and,  reaching  the  fire  lines,  found  himself  face  to 
face  with  an  Inspector  of  Police  whom  he  happened  to 
know — he  knew  by  now  many  people  of  many  different 
callings,  did  Loic. 

"May  I  lend  a  hand?"  he  asked,  shortly,  nodding 
towards  the  fiercely  lighted  windows  crowded  with  strug- 
gling and  shrieking  humanity. 

"That  you,  Mr.  Curgote?"  the  officer  replied,  without 
showing  the  least  astonishment  at  the  request.  "Pass 
if  you  feel  like  it;  there  are  women  and  children  being 
roasted  and  trampled  in  there  who'll  be  glad  enough  to 
be  rescued,"  and,  without  another  word,  he  rushed  away 
to  attend  to  his  own  business. 

A  few  seconds  later  Loic  was  groping  his  way  along 
corridors  so  dense  with  black  vapor  that  he  could  scarce- 
ly breathe,  and  which  seemed  to  lead  to  the  very  fires 
of  hell.  But  what  were  to  him  tottering  staircases, 
elevator  shafts  transformed  into  volcano-throats,  and 

470 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

scorching  floors  that  quivered  and  buckled  like  lava- 
crusts  above  the  roaring  furnace  below,  since  at  last  he 
had  his  opportunity  to  do  something  worthy  of  him, 
and  since  he  felt  himself  superbly  fit  to  accomplish  it? 
He  afterwards  remembered  these  things  disconnectedly, 
as  one  recalls  fragments  of  a  nightmare  together  with 
others — ghastly  figures  of  shrieking  women  ablaze  from 
head  to  foot,  and  heaps  of  half -naked  humanity  piled  up 
on  chaotic  landings — wondering  how  he  had  managed  to 
persevere  as  long  as  he  had  done  in  that  terrible,  self- 
imposed  task,  how  he  had  escaped  uninjured  during 
journey  after  journey  through  the  choking  reek,  the 
scorch  of  the  flames,  with  blinded  eyes  and  gasping  lungs 
bearing  so  many  unconscious  or  madly  writhing  forms 
to  the  icy  outer  air  and  safety. 

It  was  a  very  different  Loic  who,  just  as  the  new  day 
was  breaking,  picked  his  way  among  the  innumerable 
lengths  of  hose  just  being  withdrawn  from  the  collapsing 
walls,  and  which  writhed  about  him  like  knots  of  tangled 
snakes.  His  head  was  erect,  his  shoulders  squared,  and, 
in  spite  of  crushing  fatigue,  of  aching  muscles,  of  a  pair 
of  frozen  ears,  and  of  hands  bruised  and  bleeding,  he 
looked  so  extraordinarily  happy  that  those  around  him 
stared  open-mouthed  at  this  strange  figure,  clad  in  burned 
and  torn  clothes,  that  gazed  up  at  the  murky,  snow-filled 
dawn  with  so  strange  an  expression  of  thankfulness. 
They  took  him  for  one  of  the  rescued.  How  few  among 
them  could  have  understood  why  this  desperate  labor 
and  imminent  peril  should  have  gained  for  him  a  reserve 
of  strength  and  hope  that  endured  for  many  a  weary 

day  to  come! 

******* 

In  the  spring  Loic  had  at  last  one  little  stroke  of  luck. 
He  was  getting  thoroughly  desperate,  when,  through  the 

471 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

agency  of  a  friend,  he  was  brought  into  contact  with  a 
rather  superior  sort  of  horse-dealer  and  trainer  who 
owned  just  such  another  establishment  as  he  himself  had 
so  greatly  hoped  to  make  of  Cinnamon  Hill,  and  who,  after 
a  couple  of  interviews,  completely  won  by  Loic's  straight- 
forwardness and  modesty,  offered  him  the  position  of 
stable-master  and  headman.  The  salary  was  only  twenty 
dollars  a  week,  but  there  was  a  little  house  to  be  had 
gratis  on  the  place — a  tiny  cottage,  wreathed  in  roses, 
where  Kikette  could  again  play  at  will  on  her  own  domain ; 
so  Loic  jumped  at  the  chance,  and  early  in  May  the  little 
family  took  possession  of  it  with  hearts  full  of  gratitude. 
Bob  Mildway,  the  owner  of  ''Rose-Dell"  and  Loic's 
"boss,"  though  he  himself  rode  but  indifferently,  knew 
a  good  thing  when  he  saw  it,  and  since  he  never  allowed 
any  one  to  get  to  the  blind  side  of  him  in  a  bargain,  was 
doing  well  in  his  business.  He  picked  up  good-looking 
cattle  at  cheap  rates,  had  them  put  in  hard  condition 
and  well  broken,  and  ultimately  sold  them  as  made 
hunters  and  park-hacks  for  six  or  eight  times  the  amount 
they  had  cost  him.  Indeed,  he  would  long  since  have 
been  a  rich  man  had  it  not  been  for  the  difficulty  he  had 
hitherto  found  in  discovering  a  really  honest  and  trust- 
worthy trainer  and  breaker,  and  also  for  the  fact  that, 
much  against  his  wife's  advice,  he  dabbled  on  the  turf  and 
the  stock-exchange,  and  was  often  badly  hit.  He  was  a 
tall,  silent  man,  with  a  solemn  face  and  a  long,  melan- 
choly nose;  but  Mrs.  Mildway,  a  petite,  vivacious  creat- 
ure, with  beautiful  dark  hair  and  eyes,  always  exquisite- 
ly dressed,  clever,  energetic,  and  an  excellent  manager, 
was  the  veritable  soul  of  the  place.  She  shrugged  her 
shapely  shoulders  when  her  husband  talked  about  bad 
times,  curtailed  income,  and  hampered  business  condi- 
tions, and,  indeed,  thanks  to  her  constant  attention,  there 

472 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

was  no  sign  of  shabbiness  or  stint  about  her  house  and 
gardens.  She  kept  an  excellent  cook,  worked  early  and 
late  to  assist  her  lord,  and  thus  brought  about  such  sat- 
isfactory results  that  Loic  often  repressed  a  sigh  of  envy 
as  he  remembered  the  slipshod,  irresponsible  fashion  in 
which  Rose  had  performed  similar  duties. 

Mrs.  Mildway  did  not  take  a  fancy  to  Rose,  but  she  at 
once  fell  a  victim  to  Kikette's  beauty  and  masterful  lit- 
tle ways,  and  sincerely  pitied  and  admired  Loic.  She, 
with  her  quick  wit  and  experience,  read  the  situation  at 
a  glance,  and  when  she  saw  with  what  will  her  husband's 
new  trainer  set  to  work,  esteem  soon  was  joined  to  liking 
where  he  was  concerned. 

Loic,  indeed,  labored  like  a  slave.  From  the  very  first 
all  the  horses  passed  through  his  hands;  he  had  a  won- 
derful way  with  them,  as  she  soon  perceived,  and  he 
was  out  on  the  training-ground  from  daylight  to  dark, 
just  coming  in  for  his  meals  like  the  grooms,  and  starting 
off  again  the  minute  he  had  swallowed  the  last  mouthful. 
At  night  he  was  tired  enough  to  drop,  and  his  hands  were 
quite  raw  from  the  constant  handling  of  reins,  stirrup- 
leathers,  and  saddles ;  but,  in  spite  of  it  all,  the  relief  caused 
by  the  possession  of  a  "steady  job,"  and  the  regular  hours 
he  was  forced  to  keep,  did  him  good.  Indeed,  a  month  of 
this  new  life  restored  his  health  and  appetite  and  brought 
back  hope  to  his  heart. 

His  presence  as  Bob  Mildway 's  headman  astounded 
this  worthy  gentleman's  distinguished  patrons,  for  his 
appearance  was  certainly  not  that  of  a  salaried  employe, 
and  they  were  lavish  of  their  praise  and  outspoken  ad- 
miration. That  "the  Squire,"  as  Mildway  was  familiarly 
called,  was  overjoyed  at  this  success  would  be  saying  too 
much,  and,  although  Loic  held  himself  severely  aloof  from 
the  "social"  side  of  the  establishment,  and  fulfilled  his 
a*  473 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

duties  more  than  conscientiously,  with  no  thrusting  for- 
ward of  his  brilliant  talents,  and  no  flurry  whatsoever, 
displaying  on  the  contrary  great  judgment  and  determi- 
nation in  keeping  officially  as  much  as  possible  in  the 
background,  yet  he  felt  from  the  first  that  his  chief  was 
jealous  of  him  and  grudged  him  his  superior  abilities. 
Vainly  did  poor  Loic  try  to  show  himself  yet  more  re- 
tiring; the  lady  patronesses  of  the  Rose-Dell  training 
establishment  would  not  hear  of  his  remaining  absent 
from  the  paper-chases  organized  by  "the  Squire,"  and 
they  spoke  to  him  of  his  stable-master  in  terms  of  such 
enthusiasm  that,  had  they  sworn  to  lose  him  his  place, 
they  could  not  have  gone  more  effectually  about  it. 

Meanwhile,  Rose,  peering  and  watching  through  the 
latticed  windows  of  her  tiny  home,  grew  bitter  as  gall, 
and  vowed  vengeance  on  the  whole  world  of  women. 

"What's  this  flower?"  she  asked,  peremptorily,  one 
evening  as  he  entered  the  little  kitchen  where  she  was 
preparing  a  late  supper.  "  Give  it  here!"  and  she  snatch- 
ed it  from  his  button-hole,  her  eyes  alight  with  anger. 

"Well,  upon  my  word!"  Loic  gasped,  utterly  thunder- 
struck by  her  extraordinary  violence,  but  for  once  dis- 
regarding all  prudence,  she  flung  the  dainty  yellow  rose- 
bud across  the  room,  narrowly  missing  some  slender- 
stemmed  glasses  on  the  table,  and  hi  tones  hoarse  with 
rage,  cried: 

"111  poison  myself  if  you  continue  to  dare  me  like 
that;  yes,  and  my  death  will  lie  at  your  door!"  Her  face 
was  crimson,  even  her  neck  flamed;  but  Loic,  who  re- 
membered an  occasion,  years  ago,  when  he  had  been 
nastily  taken  in  by  a  pretence  on  her  part  to  swallow 
a  dose  of  laudanum,  with  which  she  had  merely  rinsed 
her  mouth  and  stained  her  dress,  afterwards  twisting 
and  twirling  convulsively  on  the  floor,  shrugged  his 

474 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

shoulders  and  began  to  unstrap  his  spurs  without  pay- 
ing the  slightest  attention  to  this  threat.  He  was,  fort- 
unately, in  a  very  good  temper,  having  just  sold  three 
horses  at  a  rattling  good  price,  and  received  for  once  a 
cordial  "Thank  you.  You  are  doing  splendidly,"  from 
the  delighted  "Squire,"  else  Rose  would  certainly  not 
have  fared  quite  so  well.  Encouraged  by  his  silence,  she 
continued,  banging  the  dishes  and  plates  violently  about 
in  the  narrow  little  sink:  "You  treat  me  abominably; 
d'  you  think  that  I  am  always  to  be  a  mere  drudge,  good 
enough  only  to  cook  your  meals  and  bring  up  your  brat 
while  you  dance  attendance  on  a  lot  of  beastly,  shame- 
less women?" 

"That's  enough!"  Loic  said,  sternly.  "Are  you  mad? 
And  don't  yell  like  that,  you  will  wake  up  Kikette!" 

"Kikette,  always  Kikette!  You  think  of  nothing  but 
her  and  your  precious  sister!  Am  I  nobody?  I  don't 
count  in  your  eyes,  I  see,  excepting  as  a  butt  for  your 
tempers  and  your  bad  compliments — a  fine  life  I'm  lead- 
ing here — "  She  was  about  to  descend  again  into  the 
arena  of  common  invective,  but  the  sight  of  Loic's  dark- 
ening brow  made  her  think  better  of  it,  and,  collapsing 
instead  into  the  nearest  chair,  she  burst  into  a  tempest 
of  those  unlovely  tears  and  gurgling  sobs  of  which  she 
had  the  secret,  and  which,  somehow,  disfigured  her  for 
hours  after  the  storm  had  passed. 

Often  had  Loic  gently  and  patiently  reasoned  with  her 
on  such  occasions,  but  these  had  been  too  frequent  lately 
to  create  much  impression  upon  him  now,  and,  utterly 
disgusted,  he  left  her  to  her  meanings  and  sniffings,  clos- 
ing the  door  after  him.  Truly,  everything  seemed  to  con- 
spire against  the  possibility  of  his  ever  redeeming  the 
sorrowful  past!  What  with  the  hard  work  he  was  doing, 
the  influence  of  the  sporting  crowd  surrounding  him — a 

475 


THE    TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

hard-drinking,  fast-living  one,  indeed — and  the  miseries 
of  his  life  with  Rose,  he  had  reached  the  top  of  a  slope 
down  which  it  is  difficult  not  to  slide  swiftly.  An  over- 
wrought body  and  an  overstrained  heart  are  bad  helpers 
in  such  a  situation,  and  a  bitter  curse  was  on  his  lips  as 
he  turned  into  his  own  room  adjoining  that  where  Kikette 
lay  asleep  in  her  little  white  cot. 

The  moon,  sailing  in  a  cloudless,  sapphire  sky,  was 
beginning  to  touch  with  silver  the  nodding  roses  around 
the  open  casement;  and,  as  he  paused  at  the  communicat- 
ing door,  a  long,  shining  ray  stole  in  and  crept  along  the 
trailing  folds  of  the  blankets  with  which  the  child  was 
covered.  Rose's  sobs,  persistent,  wilfully  long-drawn, 
and  stubborn,  fell  exasperatingly  on  Loic's  ear;  they 
were  really  too  loud  and  came  with  too  much  emphasis 
to  be  considered  a  spontaneous  expression  of  true  grief; 
and,  enervated  beyond  measure,  he  crossed  over  to  the 
tiny  dining-room  and  quickly  poured  himself  out  a  glass 
of  brandy,  which  he  dashed  down  at  one  gulp.  The 
spirits  ran  through  his  veins,  diffusing  instantly  a  grate- 
ful feeling  of  slight  exhilaration,  and  so  satisfied  was  he 
with  its  effects  that,  after  a  second's  hesitation,  he  took 
a  second  dose;  then,  going  back  to  his  room,  he  rinsed  his 
mouth  with  violet  water,  and,  gently  pushing  Kikette's 
door  wide  open,  tiptoed  to  the  side  of  her  tiny  bed. 

The  moon-ray  had  crept  farther  now  to  shed  its  white 
caress  upon  Kikette,  who,  with  her  chubby  hands  clasped 
beneath  one  rounded  cheek,  breathed  softly  through 
parted  lips,  her  extraordinary  childish  beauty  etherealized 
and  intensified  tenfold  by  the  flood  of  pure,  passionless 
light  aureoling  it. 

Slowly  Loic  bent  over  her,  nearer  and  nearer,  until  he 
knelt  on  one  knee  upon  the  drooping  blankets.  A  great 
hatred  of  himself  was  welling  up  in  his  heart,  and  the 

476 


THE    TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

moon-ray  which  so  fitly  enshrined  the  loveliness  of  the 
child  made  his  own  handsome  face  look  suddenly  very 
haggard  and  worn.  His  mind  at  that  moment  was  a 
chaos  of  conflicting  emotions,  the  Leitmotif  of  which 
was  intolerable  remorse — remorse  for  having  yielded  to 
Rose's  entreaties  at  La-Roche-Sur-Yon,  remorse  for  not 
having  devised  a  way  to  tear  his  little  one  from  her  grasp 
and  give  her  to  Gaidik,  who  would  have  brought  her 
up  in  the  milieu  to  which  she  belonged,  remorse  also 
that  he  should  have  failed  to  maintain  his  little  estab- 
lishment at  Cinnamon  -  Hill,  and  last,  if  not  least,  re- 
morse and  shame,  too,  for  having  gulped  down  that  double 
drink  before  coming  to  kiss  his  little  maid  good-night. 

Of  late  he  had  been  so  much  absorbed  in  his  work 
that  he  had  hardly  had  any  time  to  give  her,  and  some- 
how or  other  a  great  wave  of  disgust  now  rose  in  him 
at  the  thought  of  the  low  and  humiliating  aspects  of  his 
present  life  and  the  many  degrading  temptations  it 
brought  with  it.  His  hopes  of  remaking  a  fortune  had 
gradually  given  way  to  an  overmastering  desire  of  mere- 
ly finding  means  to  leave  America  and  return  "home" — 
not  to  Kergoat,  of  course,  but  to  some  humble  corner  of 
Brittany,  where  in  a  lonely  cottage  he  could  live  in 
peace  with  Kikette,  far,  far  away  from  all  the  disap- 
pointments and  struggles  which  were  so  hard  to  bear. 

Kneeling  there,  close  to  that  little  bed,  this  desire  all 
at  once  took  the  form  of  a  resolve.  What  allurements 
that  peaceful  picture  possessed!  Yes,  he  would  try  now 
to  spend  next  to  nothing,  he  would  work  day  and 
night,  would  bend  his  whole  mind  to  making  some  money 
on  the  sales  which  brought  him  each  a  little  commission, 
and  when  he  had  gathered  together  the  needful  amount — 
it  wouldn't  take  so  very  long,  after  all — he  would  go  back 
to  dear  old  Brittany  and  lead  the  life  that  in  sober  earnest 

477 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

he,  at  the  moment,  entirely  believed  himself  to  prefer. 
A  tiny  chawmiere  on  the  wildest  and  least-visited  coast 
of  his  own  land,  where  life  would  cost  next  to  nothing, 
was  all  he  demanded.  There,  with  his  little  Kikette,  he 
would  pass  slow,  charming,  uneventful  days,  earning  a 
small  but  steady  income  by  buying  and  selling  those 
sturdy  little  horses  that  are  the  staple  of  the  Breton 
markets.  In  a  year — why  not — perhaps  less,  if  things 
went  passably  well — he  would  have  made  enough  to 
enable  him  to  put  his  plan  into  execution,  and  in  this 
plan  he  saw  no  flaw.  To  Rose  he  gave  but  a  passing 
thought;  no  doubt  she  would  be  delighted,  since  he 
would  then  be  far  removed  from  all  that  now  so  greatly 
aroused  her  jealousy,  and  if  she  was  not  pleased — well, 
what  did  it  matter,  since  Gaidik  would  certainly  under- 
stand and  approve  ?  She  had  no  idea  of  all  he  had  gone 
through,  for  his  letters  to  her  had  always  shown  the 
better  side  of  things,  and,  when  there  was  none  whatso- 
ever to  show,  he  had  not  scrupled  to  be  cheerfully  men- 
dacious ;  but  then  he  would  at  last  make  a  clean  breast  of 
the  dingy,  dismal  past,  and  she,  his  darling  sister,  would 
help  him  retrieve  and  forget  it.  And  who  knew  but  his 
Conseil  de  Famille  might  then  relent  and  grant  him  a 
modest  yearly  sum  to  add  to  his  resources,  or  perhaps 
even  restore  his  full  revenues  to  him. 

These  thoughts  passed  through  his  brain  in  a  soothing 
glow  of  hopeful  anticipation,  and  gently,  very  gently,  he 
bent  and  kissed  Kikette's  parted  lips,  lingering  with  his 
head  pressed  close  to  hers  on  the  soft  pillow  for  a  few 
delicious  minutes.  Then,  with  infinite  precaution,  he 
straightened  himself,  and,  after  one  long,  last,  loving  look, 
noiselessly  left  the  room  by  the  open  window,  for  he 
could  not  afford  to  have  all  his  good  resolutions  put  to 
flight  by  meeting  Rose  just  then. 

478 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

The  moonlight  glided  from  Kikette's  window  and  crept 
calmly  on,  bathing  in  its  cool  radiance  first  Loic's  bed- 
room, then  the  dining-room,  where  the  brandy-bottle  sat 
like  an  ugly  gnome  on  the  centre-table,  its  gaudy,  three- 
starred  label  showing  clearly  against  its  deep  golden 
flanks,  then  slowly  swept  on  to  the  vine-garlanded  stoop, 
where  Rose,  ever  since  she  had  heard  the  retreating,  hur- 
ried steps  of  Loic,  was  nervously  pacing  up  and  down. 
Her  whole  being  was  trembling  with  anger  and  mad 
jealousy,  for  she  imagined  that  he  had  avoided  her  to 
run  to  some  gallant  rendezvous,  perhaps  to  join  the  giver 
of  that  obnoxious  flower  now  lying  crushed  on  the  kitchen 
floor,  and  in  her  heart  an  unquenchable  thirst  for  re- 
venge grew  and  grew. 

"  Is  your  husband  in  ?"  The  voice  was  Bob  Mildway's, 
and  it  made  her  start  with  fear  by  its  sudden  hint  of 
opportunity. 

She  merely  shook  her  head  in  eloquent  denial,  and 
turned  her  swollen,  tear-stained  face  full  upon  the  as- 
tonished "Squire." 

"Is  there  anything  amiss?"  he  asked,  kindly,  leaning 
both  arms  familiarly  upon  the  balustrade  and  removing 
his  cigar  from  his  mouth.  She  made  no  reply,  but  al- 
lowed her  tears  to  flow  again  unrestrained — she  had  a 
talent  that  way  which  often  stood  her  in  good  stead  — 
and,  meekly  folding  her  hands  around  her  wet  handker- 
chief, stood  there  in  her  plain  gown  and  disordered  hair, 
the  very  picture  of  a  broken-hearted,  neglected,  humble 
wife. 

"Tell  me,"  the  "  Squire"  persisted—"  I'm  old  enough  to 
be  your  father.  Tell  me,  is  it  your  husband  who's  been 
making  you  cry?"  The  idea  of  Loic  being  brutal  to  a 
woman  seemed  ludicrous  even  to  him,  but  still  her  dis- 
tress was  so  evident  that  he  could  not  but  rush  to  the 

479 


THE    TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

conclusion  —  against  his  better  sense  —  that  his  model 
stable-master  must  be  at  fault  in  this  instance. 

"No,  no!"  she  sobbingly  and  weakly  protested,  "  'e 
is  ze  best  of  'usbands."  (The  "  Squire  "  felt  that  she  was 
not  speaking  with  conviction.)  " 'E-e  iz  good  when — 
when  'e  iz  not  drinking,"  she  moaned.  "But  zat  brandy 
— oh!  oh!  oh!  zat  brandy  makes  him  mad!" 

Like  all  hard-drinking  men,  the  good  "Squire"  had  a 
horror  of  drunkards,  and  never  suffered  his  employes  to 
indulge  in  the  use  of  strong  waters.  "Dangerous  that, 
for  men  who  have  to  deal  with  unbroken  horses,"  he 
would  say,  with  a  sage  wag  of  his  melancholy  nose.  "I 
always  allow  one  day  a  month  for  a  thorough  good  spree, 
but  no  more!"  To  be  sure,  it  had  never  occurred  to  him  to 
offer  such  a  vent  to  his  new  "gentleman  stable-master," 
but  as  he  listened  to  the  "poor  young  wife's"  appalling 
revelations  his  brow  clouded.  Loic  was  in  charge  of  his 
whole  establishment,  and  had  practically  limitless  powers. 
Could  he,  Bob  Mildway,  trust  a  man  who  lost  in  drink 
his  self-control  to  the  point  of  maltreating  a  wretched 
little  woman  no  bigger  than  a  riding-switch  ?  Of  course, 
he  knew  that  Loic  took  a  nip  now  and  then ;  indeed,  they 
had  often  taken  a  few  glasses  together  in  the  "office,"  but 
that  he  ever  drank  to  excess  was  a  surprise  to  him,  and 
not  a  pleasant  one. 

"I  am  concerned  to  hear  this,"  he  said,  replacing  his 
cigar  between  his  lips,  and  in  his  perturbation  puffing  a 
cloud  of  smoke  straight  into  her  face.  "  I  had  no  idea  he 
was  that  kind  of  a  man,  although  we  horsey  people  always 
tipple  a  bit,  of  course,  but  he  seemed  a  superior  sort  of 
chap,  and  very  popular  with  my  lady  patrons — "  Tact 
was  not  included  among  the  excellent  "Squire's"  nu- 
merous qualities,  and  he  did  not  even  notice  how  Rose 
winced  at  that  ill-inspired  outburst  of  praise.  "A  very 

480 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

good  rider,  light  hand,  perfect  judgment — it's  a  pity,  a 
very  great  pity,"  he  continued.  "But  do  you  really 
mean  to  tell  me  that  he  ever  gets  what  one  might  call 
drunk?  Cannot  you  stop  him,  Mrs.  Kergoat?  I  am 
sure  you  must  have  influence,  a  nice,  wheedling  little 
thing  like  you!" 

"Oh,  Meester  Mildway!  If  only  I  could  stop  'im,  but 
I  'av  not  ze  power,  you  see — "  And  she  hesitated  and 
looked  piteously  down  at  the  wet  handkerchief  she  was 
kneading  with  restless  fingers.  "I  am  not  clevare,  not* 
amusing,  nor  beautiful  like  zoze  ozer  weemen  'e  admires ; 
'e  is  tired  of  me  long  ago."  And,  glancing  over  at  him 
with  brimming  eyes,  she  added,  under  her  breath:  "Zey 
also  are  too  strong  for  me." 

The  "Squire's"  already  highly  rubicund  complexion 
turned  purple  with  indignation,  and  he  uttered  a  tall 
oath.  "Women,  too,  eh ?"  he  exclaimed,  with  sanctimoni- 
ous horror.  "Those  Frenchmen  are  all  alike — a  wretched 
lot  where  petticoats  are  concerned!  Well,  my  poor  child, 
I'm  awfully  sorry  for  you;  immorality  is  a  thing  I  never 
could  understand;  but  cheer  up,  you  mustn't  take  on 
so;  remember  that  you  have  your  pretty  little  girl  to 
think  of."  And,  without  heeding  the  "Ah,  yes,  poor  lit- 
tle zing!"  wrung  from  Rose  by  the  mere  mention  of  Loic's 
over-petted  and  adored  little  daughter,  he  lifted  his  cap 
a  quarter  of  an  inch  above  his  head  and  strode  away,  in 
a  state  of  righteous  wrath,  along  a  flower-bordered  path 
where  five  minutes  later  he  met  Loic  himself  striding 
home  from  his  moonlight  ramble,  teeming  with  good  re- 
solves and  happy  plans,  and  humming  softly,  sotto  voce : 

"When  all  the  world  is  old,  lad, 
And  all  the  trees  are  brown, 
And  all  the  sport  is  stale,  lad, 
And  all  the  wheels  run  down, 
481 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

Creep  home,  and  take  your  place  there, 

The  spent  and  maimed  among; 
God  grant  you  find  one  face  there 

You  loved  when  all  was  young!" 

in  no  self -pitying  spirit,  but  thinking  of  the  one  dear  face 
that  he  knew  would  welcome  him  as  tenderly  as  ever. 

"That  you,  Kergoat?"  asked  Bob,  whose  face  was  still 
the  color  of  old  England's  roast-beef.  "Could  you  spare 
me  two  minutes  in  the  office?  I'd  like  to  speak  to  you 
about  the  little  bay  mare.  How  was  she  to-day?" 

"Went  very  well,  Sir,"  Loic  said,  turning  instantly  to 
accompany  his  chief  to  the  yard,  "a  trifle  tender  on  her 
near  fore  when  landing  after  a  jump,  but — '  And  here 
followed  a  few  minutes  of  "shop-talk"  which  brought 
them  to  their  destination,  where  they  sat  down  on  each 
side  of  the  office  centre-table. 

The  "  Squire,"  after  turning  up  the  gas,  pushed  a  cigar- 
box  towards  his  stable-master  and  a  silence  ensued,  which 
Bob  spent  in  rekindling  his  waning  anger — a  rather  ardu- 
ous feat  before  the  frank,  honest,  and  eager  expression  of 
his  young  employe's  handsome  face.  That,  a  drunkard 
and  wife-beater?  Impossible!  But,  still,  he  was  a  cursed 
Aristocrat,  a  foreigner,  and,  urged  on  by  his  secret  jeal- 
ousy, Mildway  was  disposed  to  judge  him  harshly;  so, 
after  making  quite  a  business  of  lighting  a  cigar,  splutter- 
ing and  puffing  enormously  over  this  simple  process,  he 
said  at  last,  with  a  pomposity  that  he  mistook  for  ease: 

"I've  just  had  a  little  chat  with  your  wife,  Kergoat, 
and,  to  be  quite  frank  with  you,  I  don't  think  that  you 
are  treating  her  as  you  ought." 

Here  he  stopped,  for  Loic  was  looking  at  him  in  a  way 
calculated  to  inspire  caution  in  a  far  braver  man. 

"You  may  say  it's  no  business  of  mine,"  he  hurriedly 
went  on,  energetically  drawing  courage  from  the  singu- 

482 


THE   TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

larly  refractory  weed  between  his  teeth;  "but  I'm  a  man 
of  experience,  and,  let  me  tell  you,  there  was  despair  in 
her  face  just  now." 

There  was  another  silence,  the  dead  silence  that  pre- 
cedes a  storm.  Loic's  eyes  were  fixed  now  on  the  floor, 
and  he  was  biting  his  under  lip  hard  to  prevent  words 
from  escaping  him  which  might  cost  him  his  place. 

"Are  you  aware  that  that  poor  little  woman  is  ter- 
ribly unhappy?"  continued  the  foolish  man  opposite 
him,  somewhat  reassured  by  the  lack  of  a  response,  and 
puffing  huge  clouds  of  smoke  towards  the  ceiling. 

"Has  she  been  invoking  your  protection?"  Loic  asked, 
holding  desperately  onto  the  last  shreds  of  a  patience 
which  alone  stood  between  him  and  utter  ruin. 

"No,  certainly  not;  but  you  are  in  my  employ,  and  I 
feel  in  a  measure  responsible  for  the  welfare  of  those 
living  on  my  estate,"  was  the  magnificent  reply. 

"Oh,  pray  don't  let  that  weigh  upon  your  mind;  my 
wife's  welfare  is  in  no  way  endangered,  and,  moreover, 
I  prefer  to  have  sole  control  over  my  family  affairs. 
Outside  of  my  duties  in  the  stable,  I  think  that  you  need 
exercise  no  supervision  over  me."  The  retort  was  de- 
livered in  a  tone  which  staggered  the  pompous  "Bob," 
for  the  courteous  and  deferential  employe  had  suddenly 
disappeared,  to  make  room  for  a  haughty  Grand  Sei- 
gneur setting  neatly  back  into  his  place  a  meddlesome 
inferior.  Too  late  Mildway  saw  the  consequences  of  his 
folly,  too  late  he  thought  of  the  invaluable  aid  this  young 
man  was  to  him,  and,  with  a  bitter  pang,  he  seemed  to 
hear  his  own  wife's  reproaches  when  she  discovered  all 
this.  It  was,  therefore,  in  a  vastly  different  manner  that 
he  hastened  to  exclaim: 

"You  are  wrong  to  take  amiss  what  I've  said,  Ker- 
goat.  My  intentions  are  of  the  best,  and,  personally,  I 

483 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

entertain  a  great  esteem  for  you,  but  I  found  your  wife 
crying  fit  to  break  her  heart,  and  I  gathered  from  what 
she  told  me — well,  to  put  it  mildly,  that  you-^-well, 
neglect — and — and  are  rough  to  her  when — 

So  thoroughly  had  he  gotten  himself  entangled  that 
Loic,  unable  to  endure  much  more,  interrupted  his  stam- 
merings with  a  peremptory: 

"When  what?" 

"When  you're  drunk,"  blurted  the  floundering  and 
desperate  "Squire." 

"What  the  hell  do  you  mean  by  that?"  Loic  said, 
rising  so  abruptly  that  his  chair  fell  over  with  a  crash 
upon  the  floor.  Roused  to  a  white  heat,  that  young 
Celt  was  not  an  agreeable  antagonist,  and  his  alarmed 
chief  recoiled  with  a  scared  look  from  the  livid  face  and 
blazing  eyes  confronting  him,  so  convinced  that  this 
was  a  raging,  dangerous  human  animal,  perfectly  capable 
not  only  of  striking  a  woman  but  of  committing  any 
other  violent  and  criminal  deed  that  a  very  little  more 
would  have  made  him  take  to  his  heels. 

For  a  couple  of  seconds  they  stared  at  each  other; 
then,  with  the  characteristic  squaring  of  his  broad  shoul- 
ders, Loic  reconquered  himself  —  perhaps  the  craven 
terror  in  the  "Squire's"  eyes  did  the  trick — and  said, 
with  surprising  quietness: 

"You  will  please  accept  my  resignation.  I  leave  here 
to-morrow  morning."  And,  turning  on  his  heel,  he  passed 
out  of  the  "office,"  and,  thanks  to  a  woman's  idiotic 
treachery  and  a  fool's  gullibility,  out  of  the  life  of  the 
man  for  whom  he  was  in  the  way  to  earn  a  fortune. 

"  I  leave  here  to-morrow  morning."  The  words  seemed 
to  deafen  him  as  he  crunched  the  gravel  of  a  side-path 
beneath  his  heels.  Slowly,  almost  gropingly,  he  reached 
a  grassy  bank  beneath  the  one  linden -tree  he  had  ever 

484 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

seen  in  America,  sat  wearily  down,  and  began  to  wonder 
idly  and  without  much  interest  what  he  felt,  but  even 
this  just  now  was  beyond  him,  and,  save  for  the  fact  that 
he  was  conscious  of  a  slight  qualm  of  nausea,  he  merely 
realized  that  his  brain,  always  so  perfectly  clear  and 
capable  of  receiving  accurate  impressions,  was  an  utter 
blank.  There  was  a  whisper  of  leaves  faintly  stirred  by 
the  night  breeze  round  him,  and  slender  threads  of  broken 
moon-rays  flickered  through  the  linden  blossoms,  the  ex- 
quisite fragrance  of  which  carried  him  back — dully  and 
but  half -consciously  —  to  the  great  avenue  at  Kergoat, 
where  he  and  Gaidik  used  to  gather  huge  basketfuls  of 
them  for  their  mother's  bath-sachets. 

He  sat  perfectly  quiet  for  a  length  of  time  which  he 
would  have  been  totally  unable  to  determine,  watching 
the  countless  brilliant  little  lights  of  the  fire-flies  as  they 
sprinkled  up  from  the  sward  like  the  tiny  bubbles  in 
soda-water,  and  he  would  perchance  have  remained  much 
longer  in  this  curious  numbed  and  almost  trancelike 
tranquillity  had  he  not  suddenly  been  partially  roused 
from  it  by  the  sound  of  Mrs.  Mildway's  voice  coming 
from  somewhere  behind  the  trees  concealing  him.  He 
had  always  remarked  the  harmonious  depth  of  her  tones, 
and  quite  unconsciously,  at  first,  he  took  pleasure  in 
listening  to  them. 

"You  cannot  do  that,  Bob,"  she  was  saying.  "You 
cannot  let  him  go.  Run  after  him  and  apologize;  you 
were  entirely  in  the  wrong,  and  he  is  invaluable  to  us." 

"I'll  be  damned  if  I  do,  Maria,"  came  in  answer  the 
surly  growl  of  an  angry  man.  "You  are  like  the  rest  of 
them,  dead  in  love  with  his  handsome  face  and  grand 
manners;  but  I'm  sick  of  'em  both.  You  should  have 
seen  him  just  now;  why,  there  was  murder  in  his  eyes!" 

Loic  would  have  liked  to  rise  and  walk  away,  but  he 

485 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

found  himself  actually  unable  to  make  up  his  mind  to  the 
effort  it  entailed,  his  muscles  did  not  answer  to  the  im- 
pulse, and  again  he  wondered  apathetically  why.  His 
cap  was  still  in  his  hand,  and  he  began  to  fan  himself 
mechanically  with  it,  although  the  night  air  was  de- 
liciously  cool  and  refreshing.  After  a  few  seconds  he 
stopped,  and,  pulling  a  long  grass-blade  from  a  tuft  be- 
side him,  he  gently  bit  it ;  then,  aware  that  he  was  doing 
a  childish  thing,  he  let  it  drop  on  his  lap  and  resumed 
his  idle  staring  at  the  fire-flies  and  at  the  threads  of  silver 
light  with  which  the  hardly  perceptible  wind  was  spin- 
ning so  delicate  and  brilliant  a  web  throughout  the  nest 
of  perfumed  shadow  made  by  the  drooping  branches  of 
the  linden. 

Again  Mrs.  Mildway  was  speaking: 

"You  are  a  fool,  Bob.  You  have  been  jealous  of  him 
all  along,  and  now  you  are  taking  advantage  of  a  stupid 
quarrel  to  get  rid  of  the  only  perfect  assistant  you  ever 
had.  What  does  it  matter  to  you  how  he  treats  his 
wife,  and  how  do  you  know  that  what  she  told  you  was 
true  ?  She  is  a  nasty  little  beast,  if  you  want  my  candid 
opinion,  and  I  wonder  how  he  can  put  up  with  her." 

"There  you  are!"  snarled  the  "Squire."  "You,  being 
a  woman,  of  course  take  his  part  and  revile  her.  I  can't 
intrust  my  horses  and  my  interests  to  a  drunkard  and  a 
profligate,  anyway;  that  you  must  see,  at  any  rate!" 

"Pshaw!  He  does  not  drink  a  bit  more  than  you  do 
yourself,  and  at  least  'he'  is  a  gentleman!"  The  voice 
was  no  longer  quite  so  harmonious ;  there  was  a  ring  of 
cold  contempt  in  it,  and  the  husband  caught  its  sting. 

"  I'm  surprised  at  you,  Maria,"  he  remonstrated.  "  It's 
high  time  that  he  should  be  off,  if  that's  your  way  of 
thinking  —  the  damned,  beggarly,  out-at-elbows  Aristo- 
crat!" 

486 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

Loic,  fully  awake  at  last,  jumped  up,  and,  without  car- 
ing a  jot  whether  he  was  heard  or  not,  crashed  through 
the  linden  boughs  and  started  at  a  rapid  stride  down 
the  road,  aching  from  head  to  foot  with  the  desire  to 
administer  to  his  ex  -  chief  the  well  -  merited  thrashing 
from  which  his  little  wife's  presence  alone  saved  him; 
and  as  he  went  he  thought  not  of  to-morrow  and  the 
houselessness  of  to-morrow,  but  of  the  exquisite  relief 
it  would  have  been  to  punch  "Bob's"  melancholy  nose 
out  of  all  human  semblance. 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

Dead  calm!  dead  calm!  nor  a  breeze  that  blows 

And  level  the  listless  ocean-lawn, 
Save  a  seldom  ripple  whence  no  one  knows 

That  lappeth,  and  lo — is  gone! 
The  pale  morn,  fainting  and  all  foredone, 
Cowers  at  the  feet  of  the  coming  sun, 
And  the  blank  day,  fiery-fierce  and  bright, 
Shudders  at  last  into  choking  night. 
Oh,  sing  of  a  sneering  Thought,  that  saith 
The  balance  droopeth  from  Life  to  Death! 
And  groan  with  the  cordage  dewed  in  balm 
From  the  sweltering  pine, 

Dead  calm!  M.  M. 

"THIS  will  do  very  well,"  Loic  said,  quietly,  pausing 
on  the  threshold  of  the  diminutive  "apartment"  he 
had  just  visited.  With  a  little  nod  and  a  suppressed 
sigh,  he  turned  towards  the  janitress  —  a  thin,  middle- 
aged  Irishwoman,  with  a  wisp  of  gray  hair  fastened  on 
the  crown  of  her  head  and  an  expression  of  devouring 
curiosity  pervading  her  whole  eager  person — and,  taking 
from  his  pocket  an  exquisite  gold-mounted  card-case — 
which  made  the  worthy  woman  open  her  crafty  little 
eyes  to  their  widest — paid  one  month's  rent  in  advance. 

Twenty-one  dollars — this  was  astonishingly  cheap  for 
New  York,  he  thought,  especially  since  the  street  was 
broad  and  clean,  the  house  one  of  a  long  row  of  green- 
shuttered  frame  buildings  overlooking  the  fresh  and  well- 
kept  lawns  of  a  pretty  cemetery,  that  formed  a  grate- 
ful interval  between  the  tall  brick  tenements  and  cheap, 

488 


THE    TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

dingy  shops  of  the  neighboring  Avenue.  Immediately 
adjoining,  a  little  Catholic  church,  covered  with  a  thick 
mantle  of  ampelopsis,  which  clothed  it  from  high  gabled 
roof  to  granite  basement  in  a  constantly  rustling  armor 
of  overlapping  pointed  leaves,  added  to  the  rural  aspect 
of  the  place — a  priceless  virtue  in  Loic's  nature-loving 
eyes.  To  be  sure,  the  rooms — there  were  two  of  them, 
besides  a  kitchen  no  bigger  than  a  pocket-handkerchief, 
and  a  bath  —  were  neither  very  modern  nor  even  very 
convenient,  but,  as  he  casually  remarked  to  himself, 
"Beggars  cannot  be  choosers" — and  he  was  very  nearly 
beggared  now!  Last  of  all,  there  was  an  unusually  large, 
neglected  backyard,  which  he  had  stipulated  could  be 
used  as  a  run  for  Teuss. 

"And  the  furniture,  Sir?"  the  janitress  said,  tentative- 
ly, breaking  upon  his  meditations. 

"Oh,  that's  all  right!"  he  replied,  hurriedly.  "It  will 
be  sent  in  to-morrow."  And  with  four  crisp  twenty- 
dollar  bills — all  he  possessed  in  the  world — still  snugly 
tucked  away  in  that  incongruous,  gold -mounted  case, 
he  took  leave  of  the  janitress  and  bent  his  steps  towards 
a  furniture-shop,  where,  within  the  hour,  he  contracted 
for  just  enough  beds,  chairs,  tables,  and  other  absolute 
necessaries — on  the  instalment  plan — to  make  immediate 
occupation  of  the  new  quarters  possible. 

In  the  midst  of  the  hurrying  crowds  he  felt  singularly 
alone  that  afternoon;  the  passing  faces,  the  roar  of  traffic, 
the  hustling  and  jostling  around  him,  in  no  way  disturbed 
his  thoughts,  which,  passing  and  repassing,  crossing  and 
recrossing,  went  on  upon  their  inexorable  course  wholly 
unaffected  by  outward  things: 

"Quand  jemiettais  mon  pain  a  1'oiseau  du  rivage 
L'onde  semblait  me  dire  Espere!  aux  mauvais  jours. 
Dieu  te  rendra  ton  pain!   Dieu  me  le  doit  ton  jours!" 

32  489 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

These  lines  of  the  friendless  and  starving  Moreau  re- 
curred to  him  with  fatiguing  persistency.  He,  too,  had 
in  days  gone  by  cast  his  bread  upon  many  waters,  giving 
to  all  who  demanded — to  many  who  did  not — with  royal 
generosity,  but  he  still  remained  unpaid,  unrewarded, 
and  he  smiled  his  cynical  little  smile  as  he  pondered  on 
his  own  present  needs. 

His  lesson  was  wellnigh  learned  by  now.  He  was  re- 
alizing, at  last,  how  criminally  he  had  thrown  away  his 
life,  neglected  his  unique  opportunities,  and  sacrificed 
all  that  was  worth  having  —  all  save  Kikette.  It  was 
almost  too  late  now  to  reconquer  and  redeem  the  past, 
and  his  course  of  duty  was  marked  before  him  with 
grim  distinctness.  Therefore  he  contemptuously  set  aside 
every  bitter  thought  as  marking  an  unmanly  tendency 
to  complain  of  the  natural  results  of  his  own  actions, 
and  devoted  himself  to  keeping  alive  within  his  heart  a 
tiny  flame  of  hope  intermittently  pulsating,  now  dim, 
now  bright,  according  to  the  moment,  the  centre  of  which 
was  Gaidik.  Gaidik's  courage,  her  fixity  of  purpose,  her 
unyielding  tenacity,  her  love  for  and  pride  in  him,  were 
the  ideas  upon  which  he  bent  his  mind,  to  the  end  that 
the  long  lane  perchance  might  have  a  turning. 

Kikette  and  Rose,  once  installed  in  the  small  rooms 
overlooking  the  pretty,  parklike  cemetery,  he  set  forth 
anew  in  search  of  employment.  It  was  weary,  weary 
work,  this  going  from  door  to  door,  dressed  in  immacu- 
lately brushed  clothes,  which  were  beginning  to  show 
slight,  but  to  him  exasperating,  signs  of  wear;  this  an- 
swering advertisements  almost  invariably  worthless;  this 
constant  humbling  of  his  pride  to  low,  horsey  people, 
whom  in  days  gone  by  he  would  not  have  deemed  worthy 
of  a  position  in  his  own  stables,  but  who  to-day  looked 
hin>up  and  down  as  though  he  were  some  mere  ques- 

49° 


THE    TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

tionable  piece  of  merchandise.  A  few  weeks  of  it  brought 
Loic  wellnigh  to  the  limits  of  both  courage  and  endur- 
ance. To  come  home  every  night  completely  fagged, 
to  rise  each  morning  with  exceptional  energies  rearoused 
to  their  keenest  for  another  day  of  profitless  tramping 
and  insufficient  food — eked  out  as  before  by  spirits — 
ends  by  wearing  both  body  and  mind,  and,  although  this 
obstinate  fighter's  face  was  as  unemotional  and  as  hand- 
some as  ever,  it  speedily  lost  all  its  brightness,  the  eyes 
became  deeply  sunken,  and  dark  streaks  showed  beneath 
them. 

Rage  at  his  helplessness  often  came  nigh  to  choking  him 
after  these  long,  dreary,  disappointing  quests,  and  his 
returns  to  his  dingy,  barely  furnished,  ill-kept  home 
and  his  meagre  supper  —  served  in  a  slip -shod  fashion 
by  a  soured,  imbittered  woman  on  the  oil-clothed  cor- 
ner of  a  kitchen  table  —  were  liable  to  be  somewhat 
stormy. 

He  had  never  forgiven  Rose  the  teachery  which  had 
caused  him  to  resign  his  place  as  "Squire  Bob's"  stable- 
master,  nor  was  it  likely  that  he  would  ever  do  so,  for  to 
him  there  was  something  peculiarly  ignoble  in  that  short- 
sighted and  characteristically  stupid  bit  of  revenge,  and, 
although  he  never  alluded  now  to  the  matter,  she  could 
not  think,  without  trembling  all  over,  of  the  scene  which 
had  taken  place  between  them  on  that  eventful  night. 
For  the  first  time  she  had  then  seen  to  what  height  the 
Kergoat  temper  could  really  rise,  and  a  coldness  that 
increased  with  time  had  stood  between  them  ever  since. 
•She  cringed  and  lied  and  prevaricated  continually  now, 
and  he  despised  her  not  only  for  this,  but  for  the  lack  of 
honest  impulse  which  had  prevented  her  from  even  ask- 
ing his  pardon  and  from  relying  upon  the  forbearance 
and  generosity  which  hitherto  had  never  once  failed  her. 

491 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

From  the  very  beginning  she  had  done  little  else  than 
shatter  his  illusions  one  after  the  other — at  first,  perhaps 
carelessly  and  because  it  lay  in  her  nature  to  do  so,  but 
for  a  long  time  past  deliberately — and  she  was  now  reap- 
ing the  fruits  of  her  sowing.  Gaidik  and  Kikette — Loic's 
two  only  remaining  treasures — were  the  objects  of  her 
peculiar  jealousy.  In  her  lax  way  she  certainly  loved 
her  little  daughter,  yet  that  ever-increasing  resemblance 
to  Loic's  detested  sister  made  her  act,  at  times,  towards 
the  child  with  extreme  harshness  and  injustice — this,  of 
course,  happening  only  when  Loic  was  out  of  the  way. 

He,  poor  fellow,  still  wrote  letters  full  of  hope  and 
cheery  anticipation  to  Gaidik,  but  these  documents, 
never  conspicuously  coherent,  were  beginning  to  arouse 
in  their  recipient  fears  that  Fate  was  not  really  dealing 
as  leniently  with  her  Fr6rot  as  she  prayed  daily  that  it 
might;  and,  although  she  never  for  a  moment  suspected 
the  fearful  odds  besetting  him  on  all  sides,  yet  she  fell 
into  the  habit  of  sending  "to  Kikette" — as  she  delicately 
put  it  —  substantial  checks,  which,  had  she  but  known 
it,  alone  saved  the  little  family  on  more  than  one  occasion 
from  utter  destitution.  With  such  a  pitiful  housekeeper 
as  Rose,  however,  debts  grew  daily  in  bulk.  The  poor 
little  rent  became  overdue,  the  tradespeople  who  fur- 
nished the  scanty  daily  provender  clamored  for  their 
humiliatingly  infinitesimal  bills,  and  Loic,  almost  des- 
perate, took  yet  another  step  downward  and  resolved 
to  apply  for  a  place  as  driver  in  a  livery-stable. 

One  day,  therefore,  having  carefully  perused  the  ad- 
vertisement columns  of  the  newspapers,  he  set  forth* 
heavy  indeed  at  heart,  to  offer  his  services  in  that  capac- 
ty  to  the  owner  of  a  prosperous  Brooklyn  establishment. 
It  was  a  glorious  autumn  day,  mellow  and  golden,  and 
the  touch  of  the  sea-breeze  on  his  face  brought  back  the 

492 


THE   TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

memory  of  the  long,  idle,  happy  hours  spent  with  Gaidik 
on  the  green  Atlantic  waves,  gliding  from  island  to  island, 
from  rock-girt  cove  to  rock-girt  cove,  in  their  yacht,  as 
free  and  careless  and  whimsical  as  the  sea-birds  flocking 
about  them,  and  he  winced.  The  glory  of  the  western 
sun  lay  ruddily  over  the  river  as  he  walked  along  the 
Brooklyn  Bridge,  and  for  a  few  moments  he  stopped,  like 
one  willing  to  seize  upon  a  momentary  distraction  from 
painful  thoughts,  to  gaze  at  the  broad,  placid  stream, 
churned  by  the  propellers  of  innumerable  steam-craft, 
and  widening  southward  between  the  two  huge  wilder- 
nesses of  dreary  brick  to  the  beautiful  blue  bay  and 
charming  vista  of  green  hills  beyond. 

Turning  abruptly  away,  he  hurried  on,  and  presently 
reached  a  red  brick  building  which  formed  the  corner  of 
a  busy  thoroughfare  and  a  little,  quiet  street  running 
northward  from  it,  and,  holding  his  resolution  between 
his  teeth — as  one  might  say — entered  a  neat  little  office, 
where  sat  enthroned  an  eminently  Hibernian-looking  per- 
sonage busily  engaged  in  rolling  a  pencil  to  the  top  of 
his  blotting-pad  and  catching  it  with  mathematical  pre- 
cision over  and  over  again  as  it  came  down.  Beside 
him,  and  indulgently  watching  this  harmless  recreation, 
lounged  a  tall,  raw-boned  man  with  straight,  square 
shoulders,  chewing  an  unlighted  cigar.  He  was  clean- 
shaven, and  there  was  that  about  his  sleek  head  and 
somewhat  harsh  face  which  seemed  to  bespeak  a  sort  of 
smooth  and  compact  self-complacency. 

"I  am  here  to  answer  your  advertisement,"  Loic  said, 
in  his  ordinary,  quiet  way,  although  he  felt  intensely 
ashamed  of  himself. 

The  livery-stable  owner  nodded  hesitating!^,  an  ex- 
pression of  extreme  astonishment  shining  in  his  blue, 
Irish  eyes,  and,  catching  his  down-rolling  pencil,  quite 

493 


THE   TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

haphazard  this  time,  and  with  an  inattentive  hand,  he 
threw  it  on  the  desk. 

"You  want  a  place  as  driver — here?"  the  other  man 
interposed,  abruptly,  casting  a  sharp,  shrewd  look  at  this 
strange  postulant,  his  perfectly  cut,  slightly  worn  attire, 
handsome  person,  and  strikingly  aristocratic  bearing. 

Loic  turned  and  looked  at  him  in  displeased  sur- 
prise. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  stiffly. 

"So!  What's  the  matter  with  you?  Damned  hard 
up,  eh?"  Then,  noticing  the  angry  light  kindling  in 
Loic's  eyes,  he  hastily  added,  with  a  smile  that  entirely 
transformed  his  face,  "Now  don't  be  huffy,  it  isn't  curi- 
osity that  made  me  ask  that;  I  wouldn't  mind  betting 
you're  the  very  man  I  want  to  help  me  in  a  little  venture 
of  my  own — the  very  chap  I've  been  looking  for!" 

Loic  seemed  in  no  great  degree  impressed  by  these 
flattering  observations  upon  himself,  and  the  hard  look 
still  lingered  in  his  eyes. 

"Suppose  we  bid  our  friend  here  good-bye,  and  you 
come  along  and  have  a  bit  of  a  drink  with  me,"  the 
energetic  gentleman  continued,  decisively.  "You're  not 
the  sort  to  sit  on  the  box  of  a  hired  landau,"  he  concluded, 
fervently,  with  a  boisterous  laugh,  looking  the  young 
man  up  and  down  as  he  stood  with  one  hand  resting  on 
the  edge  of  the  desk.  And  he,  returning  the  look,  could 
not  repress  a  smile. 

Knocked  flat  a  score  of  times,  Loic  was  only  waiting 
for  his  chance  to  pick  himself  up  again  and  go  straight 
on,  hands  down  and  heels  ready  to  spur  on  success.  He 
could  certainly  not  afford  to  disdain  any  offer,  and,  al- 
though not  by  any  means  enchanted  with  this  would-be 
patron's  tone,  he  yet  made  up  his  mind  with  lightning- 
like  rapidity  to  give  him  at  least  the  benefit  of  the  doubt 

494   . 


THE    TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

and  to  investigate  the  nature  of  the  above-named  ' '  little 
venture." 

William  Larsen,  the  self-complacent,  or  rather 
"Stumpy,"  as  he  was  called  by  his  intimates  —  pre- 
sumably because  he  was  tall  and  thin  and  by  no  man- 
ner of  means  what  this  sobriquet  implied  —  became 
after  half  an  hour's  conversation  with  Loic  filled  with 
delight  at  the  possibilities  presented  to  his  mental  vision 
by  the  prospect  of  an  association  with  such  a  man,  and 
as  time  went  on  his  good  opinion  of  his  own  discern- 
ment, which  was  not  small,  certainly  found  no  cause  for 
drooping.  He  was  a  merry  fellow,  was  "Stumpy,"  a 
man  ever  fond  of  his  joke,  and  at  first  glance  the  living 
semblance  of  bluff  open-heartedness.  Nobody  could  ac- 
cuse him  of  being  reserved,  and,  therefore,  he  was  never 
suspected  of  being  extremely  secretive  —  two  qualities 
widely  different,  though  identical  to  the  popular  mind. 

As  for  his  nationality,  he  proclaimed  on  all  occasions 
that  he  was  American  to  the  backbone,  though  his  name 
of  Larsen  plainly  indicated  the  Swede.  When  reminded 
of  this  he  was  wont  to  answer  that  a  Swede  he  had  only 
been  very  long  ago — before  he  was  born — and  that  this 
was  not  his  fault,  but  his  misfortune!  Of  a  truth, 
"Stumpy"  was  really  a  very  slippery  customer,  ever  on 
the  alert  to  get  the  better  of  all  those  with  whom  he  came 
in  contact,  and  so  clever  and  subtle,  in  spite  of  his  con- 
stant boisterousness  of  manner,  that  many,  even  of  the 
shrewdest,  fell  into  his  well -laid  traps. 

With  Loic  he  proceeded  even  more  guardedly  and 
cleverly  than  was  his  wont,  explaining  to  him,  with 
much  finish  of  detail,  that  having  set  aside  a  cosey  little 
sum  of  money  from  other  successful  ventures  —  of  a 
nature  unstated — he  had  determined  to  open  a  "Ladies' 
Riding  Academy"  in  Brooklyn.  For  quite  a  while  he 

495 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

had  had  his  eye  upon  a  convenient,  if  rather  dilapidated, 
building,  which  when  whitewashed  and  trimmed  up  a 
bit  would  look  "as  smart  as  they  make  'em" — this  be- 
ing one  of  his  favorite  expressions.  What  had  until  now 
delayed  him  was  the  impossibility  of  finding  a  partner 
who'd  be  a  "real  sport"  and  yet  an  honest  man  —  a 
"gentleman"  after  his  own  heart — and  when  Loic  vent- 
ured to  interrupt  him  in  order  to  point  out  that  the 
first  requisite  of  partnership — namely,  money — was  what 
he  lacked  most,  friend  "Stumpy"  worked  himself  into  a 
violent  fit  of  indignation,  declaring  that  there  are  assets 
far  more  valuable  than  mere  bullion,  and  that  did  Loic 
possess  millions,  he,  William  Larsen,  would  not  suffer 
him  to  risk  one  single  cent  of  those  hoards  in  this  enter- 
prise. The  shrewd  Swede  acutely  realized  that  this 
handsome  young  Aristocrat  would  be  for  him  the  best  of 
drawing-cards;  and,  after  seeing  him  once  on  horseback, 
his  enthusiasm  attained  such  heights  of  compliment  that 
Loic,  greatly  annoyed,  felt  like  chucking  the  whole  thing 
and  again  trying  his  luck  at  some  livery-stable. 

However,  the  thought  of  his  little  Kikette  and  of  all 
he  could'  do  for  her  should  he  be  put  in  a  position  to  earn 
something  more  than  daily  wages  stopped  him,  and, 
with  his  old  energy  once  more  awakened,  he  threw  him- 
self body  and  soul  into  his  new  duties.  He  became  at 
one  and  the  same  time  "  Stumpy  V  buyer,  trainer,  rid- 
ing-master, and  general  manager,  and,  thanks  to  his  un- 
tiring efforts,  two  months  had  not  elapsed  before  that 
worthy  personage's  "Ladies'  Riding  Academy"  looked  as 
well  established  and  as  prosperous  as  if  it  had  been  a 
paying  concern  for  twenty  years. 

How  could  Loic  have  dreamed  that  the  whole  thing 
was  a  mere  plant,  that  Larsen,  ever  on  the  lookout  for 
swift  and  unscrupulous  returns,  was  eager  only  to  show 

496 


THE    TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

some  well-to-do  "sports"  of  his  acquaintance  an  appar- 
ently brilliant  opportunity  for  investment,  and  that 
when  this  ambitious  goal  was  reached  he  would — but 
this  is  anticipating. 

In  the  mean  time,  Loic  worked  and  hoped  and  grew 
once  more  cheerful,  while  "Stumpy"  beat  the  big  drum 
about  his  wide-open  doors,  and,  by  way  of  neglecting  no 
detail,  even  the  most  unimportant,  made  great  friends 
with  Rose,  whom  he  treated  as  a  dear  and  honored  rela- 
tive, and  even  ingratiated  himself  with  Kikette,  in- 
variably calling  her  "My  Lady,"  and  addressing  her  with 
a  respect  he  did  not  even  display  towards  his  most  gul- 
lible patrons. 

"Mouse,"  Loic  said,  one  morning,  to  her,  "we've  got 
a  little  pony  at  the  'shop' — this  being  his  diminutive  for 
"Stumpy's"  magnificent  riding  academy — "a  little 
pony  that  you  could  ride.  Put  on  your  hat  and  come 
along;  while  I'm  working  the  'young  unV  in  the  ring, 
you  can  amuse  yourself  with  it.  Mamma  '11  fetch  you  at 
mid-day."  And  thus,  an  hour  later,  Kikette  and  a 
small  golden  chestnut  horse — the  identical  color  of  her 
own  exquisite  hair — possessed  of  a  natty,  clean-cut  head 
and  great,  soft,  intelligent  eyes,  were  regarding  each 
other  with  great  interest. 

"Well,  well,  My  Lady!"  quoth  the  enthusiastic 
"Stumpy,"  "now  don't  you  two  seem  made  for  each 
other?  Anybody 'd  take  a  fancy  to  this  'ere  little  hawse 
that  'd  see  him  under  you.  Tell  you  what,  come  and 
ride  'im  every  day,  and  we'll  give  you  a  commission 
on  the  sale.  Consider  that,  My  Lady  —  just  consider 
that!" 

"That's  a  very  good  idea,"  Kikette  answered,  gravely, 
watching  with  approving  eyes  the  careful  way  in  which 
her  papa's  "partner"  was  settling  the  pony's  bridle.  "  I'd 

497 


THE    TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

like  to  help  Papa,"  she  added,  in  her  cool,  patrician  little 
voice. 

"Stumpy"  glanced  up  at  the  strange  child,  and  then 
suddenly  bawled  out  to  Loic,  who,  in  the  centre  of  the 
ring,  was  rebridling  his  own  horse  to  his  liking:  "I  say, 
Kergoat,  why  don't  you  take  My  Lady 'riding  on  Tom 
Thumb  in  Prospect  Park?  They  make  a  picture,  I  tell 
you,  and  she'd  sell  'im  for  us  like  hot  cakes." 

Loic  turned,  flushing  angrily,  for  the  idea  of  enlisting 
Kikette  in  "  Stumpy  V  venture  did  not  in  the  least  appeal 
to  him,  and  he  was  on  the  point  of  bidding  his  enter- 
prising partner  go  to  the  devil,  when  Kikette  herself  took 
the  law  into  her  own  hands,  and  so  effectively  did 
she  coax  and  implore  that  she  gained  her  point,  and 
father  and  daughter  were  soon  galloping  side  by  side  over 
the  tan-bark  of  a  shady  bridle-path,  checkered  with  the 
brilliant  sunbeams  of  that  peerless  Indian-summer  morn- 
ing. 

To  say  that  Kikette  and  her  little  "hawse"  attracted 
attention  would  be  to  use  quite  the  wrong  expression, 
for  the  early  promenaders  whom  they  encountered 
actually  stopped  short  to  gaze  as  long  as  possible  after 
the  dainty  little  Amazon  and  her  handsome  escort.  In- 
deed, Loic  felt  so  proud  of  his  little  maid  that  he  began 
to  take  a  more  lenient  view  of  "Stumpy's"  new  idea. 
Why  shouldn't  Kikette  ride  daily  with  him  in  the  park, 
after  all?  Poor  child,  she  had  so  few  pleasures!  And 
watching  her  dancing  eyes  and  the  delicate  color  rising 
to  her  cheeks,  he  indulged  in  a  dream  of  many  such  joy- 
ful outings  in  the  near  future.  She  was  already  such 
good  company,  too,  quick  and  observant,  and  always 
with  something  to  say  for  herself,  that  he  spent  that 
morning  the  most  charming  two  hours  he  could  remem- 
ber for  a  long  time.  "As  long  as  I  have  her,"  he  mused, 

498 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

unable  to  detach  his  eyes  from  the  pretty,  little,  dauntless 
figure  cantering  bravely  beside  him,  "how  can  I  complain 
of  anything?" 

When  they  finally  reached  the  "Academy,"  they  found 
Rose  awaiting  them,  apparently  without  too  much  im- 
patience, for  she  was  engaged  in  what  seemed  to  be  a 
most  interesting  conversation  with  "Stumpy" — in  fact, 
so  absorbed  was  she  that  it  was  only  when  they  were 
almost  upon  her  that  she  saw  Loic  and  Kikette,  and  then, 
her  face  resuming  its  usual  sullen  expression,  she  hur- 
ried the  child  away  with  a  sharp,  aggressive  air  which 
surprised  Loic  not  a  little. 

That  evening  he  came  home  unusually  late.  He  was 
to  leave  next  morning  for  a  forty-eight  hours'  trip  to 
Boston,  where  his  energetic  "boss"  had  begged  him  to 
go  and  attend  a  horse-sale;  and  the  thought  of  even  so 
short  a  separation  from  Kikette,  together  with  a  vague 
but  enervating  feeling  of  dissatisfaction  he  could  not 
have  reasonably  accounted  for,  made  him  take  it  rather 
amiss  that  his  supper  should  not  be  ready,  the  rooms 
untidier  and  more  inhospitable  than  usual,  and  his  little 
pet  already  sent  to  bed. 

"That's  right,"  Rose  said,  peevishly,  "scold  me  now 
after  I've  been  washing  all  your  white  stocks  and  mend- 
ing your  riding-breeches  till  my  eyes  ached.  You're  never 
satisfied." 

"Oh,  look  here,  don't  make  me  a  scene,  Rose,"  he 
said,  wearily.  "I'm  dog-tired,  and  in  no  mood  to  put 
up  with  it.  If  there's  nothing  to  eat  in  the  house,  there's 
no  earthly  use  in  making  a  fuss;  I'll  just  step  round  to 
the  avenue  and  get  a  bite  somewhere." 

"In  order  to  rejoin  your  usual  companions!"  she 
snarled,  lighting  the  gas  and  violently  flying  to  and  fro, 
her  face  pale  with  rage.  "Do  you  think  I  don't  know 

499 


THE    TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

like  to  help  Papa,"  she  added,  in  her  cool,  patrician  little 
voice. 

"Stumpy"  glanced  up  at  the  strange  child,  and  then 
suddenly  bawled  out  to  Loic,  who,  in  the  centre  of  the 
ring,  was  rebridling  his  own  horse  to  his  liking:  "I  say, 
Kergoat,  why  don't  you  take  My  Lady  riding  on  Tom 
Thumb  in  Prospect  Park?  They  make  a  picture,  I  tell 
you,  and  she'd  sell  'im  for  us  like  hot  cakes." 

Loic  turned,  flushing  angrily,  for  the  idea  of  enlisting 
Kikette  in  "  Stumpy 's  "  venture  did  not  in  the  least  appeal 
to  him,  and  he  was  on  the  point  of  bidding  his  enter- 
prising partner  go  to  the  devil,  when  Kikette  herself  took 
the  law  into  her  own  hands,  and  so  effectively  did 
she  coax  and  implore  that  she  gained  her  point,  and 
father  and  daughter  were  soon  galloping  side  by  side  over 
the  tan-bark  of  a  shady  bridle-path,  checkered  with  the 
brilliant  sunbeams  of  that  peerless  Indian-summer  morn- 
ing. 

To  say  that  Kikette  and  her  little  "hawse"  attracted 
attention  would  be  to  use  quite  the  wrong  expression, 
for  the  early  promenaders  whom  they  encountered 
actually  stopped  short  to  gaze  as  long  as  possible  after 
the  dainty  little  Amazon  and  her  handsome  escort.  In- 
deed, Loic  felt  so  proud  of  his  little  maid  that  he  began 
to  take  a  more  lenient  view  of  "Stumpy's"  new  idea. 
Why  shouldn't  Kikette  ride  daily  with  him  in  the  park, 
after  all?  Poor  child,  she  had  so  few  pleasures!  And 
watching  her  dancing  eyes  and  the  delicate  color  rising 
to  her  cheeks,  he  indulged  in  a  dream  of  many  such  joy- 
ful outings  in  the  near  future.  She  was  already  such 
good  company,  too,  quick  and  observant,  and  always 
with  something  to  say  for  herself,  that  he  spent  that 
morning  the  most  charming  two  hours  he  could  remem- 
ber for  a  long  time.  "As  long  as  I  have  her,"  he  mused, 

498 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

unable  to  detach  his  eyes  from  the  pretty,  little,  dauntless 
figure  cantering  bravely  beside  him,  "how  can  I  complain 
of  anything?" 

When  they  finally  reached  the  "Academy,"  they  found 
Rose  awaiting  them,  apparently  without  too  much  im- 
patience, for  she  was  engaged  in  what  seemed  to  be  a 
most  interesting  conversation  with  "Stumpy" — in  fact, 
so  absorbed  was  she  that  it  was  only  when  they  were 
almost  upon  her  that  she  saw  Loic  and  Kikette,  and  then, 
her  face  resuming  its  usual  sullen  expression,  she  hur- 
ried the  child  away  with  a  sharp,  aggressive  air  which 
surprised  Loic  not  a  little. 

That  evening  he  came  home  unusually  late.  He  was 
to  leave  next  morning  for  a  forty-eight  hours'  trip  to 
Boston,  where  his  energetic  "boss"  had  begged  him  to 
go  and  attend  a  horse-sale;  and  the  thought  of  even  so 
short  a  separation  from  Kikette,  together  with  a  vague 
but  enervating  feeling  of  dissatisfaction  he  could  not 
have  reasonably  accounted  for,  made  him  take  it  rather 
amiss  that  his  supper  should  not  be  ready,  the  rooms 
untidier  and  more  inhospitable  than  usual,  and  his  little 
pet  already  sent  to  bed. 

"That's  right,"  Rose  said,  peevishly,  "scold  me  now 
after  I've  been  washing  all  your  white  stocks  and  mend- 
ing your  riding-breeches  till  my  eyes  ached.  You're  never 
satisfied." 

"Oh,  look  here,  don't  make  me  a  scene,  Rose,"  he 
said,  wearily.  "I'm  dog-tired,  and  in  no  mood  to  put 
up  with  it.  If  there's  nothing  to  eat  in  the  house,  there's 
no  earthly  use  in  making  a  fuss;  I'll  just  step  round  to 
the  avenue  and  get  a  bite  somewhere." 

"In  order  to  rejoin  your  usual  companions!"  she 
snarled,  lighting  the  gas  and  violently  flying  to  and  fro, 
her  face  pale  with  rage.  "Do  you  think  I  don't  know 

499 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

where  and  how  you  spend  every  minute  of  your  spare 
time?" 

Loic  shrugged  his  shoulders,  heroically  bridling  his  tem- 
per. Two  or  three  times  of  late  he  had  returned  to  an 
empty  board,  but  an  altercation  with  Rose  was  too 
humiliating  not  to  be  avoided,  if  possible.  Otherwise 
the  obvious  retort  would  have  been  that  she  had  evidently 
been  again  chattering  with  the  janitress,  as  she  had  lately 
fallen  into  the  habit  of  doing  for  hours  together,  since  the 
duties  of  their  tiny  establishment  were  certainly  not 
onerous,  especially  considering  the  way  she  took  them! 
But  she,  at  once  enraged  by  his  refusal  to  reply,  and 
elated  at  the  apparent  success  of  her  attempt  to  carry 
the  war  into  the  enemy's  country,  cast  all  prudence  to 
the  winds,  and  in  the  course  of  her  ensuing  reckless 
harangue  dashed  a  bowlful  of  soapy  water  so  furiously 
into  the  sink  that  the  rebounding  suds  struck  him  full 
in  the  face. 

"Damnation!"  he  exclaimed,  pulling  out  his  pocket- 
handkerchief  to  wipe  his  eyes.  "  Be  a  little  more  careful, will 
you  ?"  But  she  was  now  past  caring  what  happened  next, 
and,  rounding  upon  him  with  dilated  nostrils,  she  cried: 

"  What  scent  is  that  on  your  handkerchief  ?  You  don't 
have  anything  like  that  here!  But  why  should  I  ask? 
Of  course,  it's  clear  enough  where  you  get  such  pestilential 
perfumes  from!" 

Loic,  now  far  too  greatly  aroused  to  stand  any  more 
nonsense,  took  a  step  towards  her,  and  as  she  bent  for- 
ward to  snatch  the  bit  of  cambric  from  him,  as  she  once 
had  done  with  the  yellow  rose-bud — the  innocent  cause 
of  his  disaster  at  "Squire  Bob's" — departing  suddenly 
from  the  astonishing  courtesy  he  usually  displayed  tow- 
ards her,  he  nicked  her  across  the  nose  with  it,  saying, 
with  a  little  sneer: 

500 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

"How  d'  you  like  it?     Is  it  to  your  taste?" 

With  a  cry  of  fury  she  attempted  to  pass  him  and 
reach  the  closed  door  of  the  little  room  where  Kikette 
lay  asleep,  but,  divining  her  intention  of  avoiding  the 
anger  she  had  kindled  by  sheltering  herself  behind  the 
child — a  trick  she  had  already  played  on  two  or  three 
occasions — he  caught  her  by  both  arms,  and,  sitting  her 
down  on  a  chair,  said,  sternly,  his  jaw  set,  his  face  white 
to  the  lips: 

"None  of  that,  my  girl!  You  and  I  have  got  to  come 
to  an  understanding,  and  that  at  once.  I've  stood  all 
I  intend  to  stand  from  you,  and  if  you  don't  change  your 
paces  pretty  soon  I'll  take  Kikette  away  from  you  and 
go  and  live  with  her  somewhere  else.  This  is  no  longer 
a  fit  place  for  her." 

Although  trembling  now  with  terror,  Rose,  thoroughly 
exasperated  by  the  jokes  " Stumpy"  had  indulged  in  that 
morning  relative  to  Loic's  successes  with  his  lady  pupils 
— jokes  which  to  do  him  justice  had  not  been  meant 
evilly,  but  purely  from  a  mere  wish  to  tease  her  a  bit — 
did  not  as  usual  collapse,  but,  eying  him  with  astounding 
pertinacity,  muttered  something  about  being  left,  no 
doubt,  to  starve  in  solitude. 

"Rubbish!"  Loic  said,  contemptuously.  "You  know 
very  well  that  I'll  never  be  either  unjust  or  cruel  to  you, 
but  as  to  allowing  you  to  warp  Kikette's  mind  with  your 
eternal  suspicions,  which  you  do  not  even  take  the  trouble 
to  conceal  from  her  or  any  one  else — no!  You  are  getting 
worse  and  worse,  and  life  isn't  possible  under  such  con- 
ditions." Then,  rising  angrily,  he  strode  towards  the 
door,  and,  banging  it  after  him,  left  her  to  thoughts  which 
were  an  almost  equal  mixture  of  rage,  fear,  and  dismay. 

At  five  the  next  morning  he  was  gone,  and  she  spent 
his  short  absence  in  loudly  lamenting  her  unhappy  fate 

501 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

rising  vigorously  in  his  mind.  "Stumpy"  was  a  g( 
chap,  after  all,  he  said  to  himself,  erratic  and  rather  too 
original,  perhaps,  but  still  it  was  splendid  of  him  to  have 
picked  up  a  penniless,  broken-down  chap  like  him,  Loic, 
made  him  his  partner,  and  intrusted  him  with  his  most 
valuable  interests.  At  the  thought,  his  chivalrous  nature 
urged  him  to  do  all  that  lay  in  his  power — whatever  the 
trouble,  fatigue,  or  self-sacrifice — to  further  to  the  utter- 
most these  sacred  concerns. 

On  arriving  in  Boston,  he  found,  much  to  his  surprise, 
that  the  sale  which  he  had  come  to  attend  would  not  take 
place  till  the  next  day  but  one,  and,  having  put  up  at  the 
hotel  recommended  by  "Stumpy,"  he  immediately  sat 
down  to  write  that  worthy  "sportsman"  a  letter  ac- 
quainting him  with  this  contretemps;  then,  as  his  purse 
was  as  short  as  his  time  was  long,  he  went  for  a  pro- 
tracted ramble  into  the  country,  and,  after  a  frugal  din- 
ner, to  bed. 

Late  on  the  next  afternoon,  returning  to  his  hotel  from 
another  interminable  and  wearisome  fldnerie,  he  was 
handed  a  registered  envelope  addressed  in  "  Stumpy 's" 
sprawling  caligraphy,  and,  turning  into  the  ca}6,  sat 
down  to  read  it. 

It  ran  thus: 

"DEAR  OLD  CHAP, — I'm  afraid  that  when  you  read  this  you'll 
feel  like  killing  yours  truly.  Fortunately  my  poor  bones  will 
be  out  of  reach  of  your  iron  fists!  Dorit  be  too  hard  on  me,  how- 
ever, even  in  your  thoughts,  although  I'm  a  scapegrace,  and  the 
trick  I'm  playing  you  deserves  worse  than  a  thrashing,  but  at 
last  I  have  my  opportunity  of  clearing  a  respectable  number  of 
thousands  cheaply,  and  I'd  be  a  fool  not  to  take  it.  You're  a 
simple  one  and  won't  understand,  but  take  my  advice,  don't  go 
back  to  the  'Academy';  you're  supposed  to  be  my  partner,  and 
my  howling  creditors  might  try  and  make  you  responsible;  but 
no,  see  here,  you  can  show  them  this  letter  if  you  like,  I  don't 
care  a  damn,  for  I'm  off  with  the  boodle  to  parts  where  they  won't 

5°4 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

easily  find  me!  I've  sold  eveything  that  was  salable — at  a  loss, 
but  what  of  that,  it  couldn't  be  helped — and  if  you  take  my  ad- 
vice you'll  skip  over  to  Jersey  and  let  the  storm  blow  over.  I'm 
sorry,  I  assure  you,  and  if  I'd  thought  that  you'd  have  consented, 
I'd  willingly  have  gone  shares  with  you,  for  you're  the  finest  man 
I've  ever  known,  which  is  just  why  I  thought  better  of  making 
vou  the  offer.  I  enclose  a  yellow-back  to  meet  your  hotel  ex- 
penses. I  wLsh  I  dared  to  send  more! 

"Forgive  me,  old  man,  I  wish  I  was  sure  'My  Lady'  and  you 
won't  suffer.  Rose  is  a  bad  egg  and  not  worthy  to  black  your 
boots. 

"Well,  I  am  off ;  very  much  ashamed  of  myself  as  far  as  you're 
concerned,  but  only  so  far.  STUMPY." 


The  waiter,  bearing  down  at  last  upon  Loic  through  the 
crowded  room,  an  engaging  smile  upon  his  bland,  sallow 
face,  recoiled  into  a  neighboring  table,  after  one  glance 
at  this  singular  customer,  who,  with  dilated  eyes,  was 
gazing  at  a  letter  trembling  in  his  hands,  and  before  the 
knight  of  the  apron  could  recover  himself,  Loic  had  risen, 
and,  striding  past  him,  had  walked  out  of  the  cafe. 

It  would  be  quite  useless  to  dwell  upon  the  days  that 
followed.  All  the  hard  years  of  training  to  misfortune, 
all  the  sad  experience  gained  by  contending  with  the 
inextricable  meshes  of  the  terrible  net  that  had  been 
gathering  its  folds  round  him  since  he  had  left  Yffiniac 
with  Rose,  were  powerless  to  lighten  or  to  mitigate  the 
rage  and  consternation  which  filled  "  Stumpy  V  principal 
victim,  and  make  this  supreme  blow  less  felling.  With 
characteristic  straightforwardness  he  hurried  back  to  New 
York  as  fast  as  steam  could  carry  him,  and  from  thence 
to  Brooklyn,  where  he  quietly  faced  the  exasperated  mob 
left  behind  by  the  defaulter. 

Standing  up  like  a  man  to  the  most  humiliating,  the 

cruellest  and  hardest  situation  he  had  ever  confronted, 

he  gave  a  full  and  minute  account  of  his  relations  with 

William  Larsen.     The  narrative  was  clear,  and  not  only 

33  505 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

exceedingly  coherent,  but  admirably  adapted  to  the  tem- 
pers of  his  audience,  although  the  speaker  himself  felt 
that  an  even  greater  force  and  picturesqueness  of  phrase 
would  have  failed  to  do  justice  to  his  erstwhile  chief. 

Fortunately  his  innocence  was  so  patent,  his  confi- 
dent fearlessness  so  impressive,  that  a  very  short  time 
sufficed  to  clear  him  completely.  Nor  did  the  occasion 
lack  its  little  touch  of  humor,  for  one  of  the  stablemen 
who  had  served  under  his  orders — they  were  all  fulsome 
in  their  praise  of  him,  and  unrestrained  in  their  denuncia- 
tions of  the  estimable  Larsen — eulogized  poor  Loic  to 
some  of  the  assembled  creditors  in  a  speech  that  in  spite 
of  the  circumstances  capsized  everybody's  gravity: 

"There  isn't  a  dacenter  gentleman  than  'im  in  this 
blissed  land,"  quoth  the  outspoken  son  of  Erin,  "with  no 
more  pride  about  him  than  an  ass,  and  honist  as  our  pig, 
who  wouldn't  take  a  bite  he  wasn't  willin'  to  return  twice 
over." 

This  unsophisticated  statement  put  the  finishing 
touch  to  a  general  sentiment  in  his  favor,  so  that  it 
was  actually  amid  murmurs  of  commiseration  and  in- 
voluntary but  none  the  less  very  deep  respect,  that  the 
door  of  "Stumpy's"  riding-school  —  gateway,  alas,  to 
the  land  of  phantom  hopes — closed  behind  Loic  for  the 
last  time! 

He  went  home  that  night,  realizing  for  the  second  time 
in  his  life  the  incapacity  to  think.  He  felt  crushed; 
there  was  an  intense  pressure  on  his  brain  and  an  in- 
tolerable weight  at  his  heart.  He  had  eaten  nothing 
all  day,  and  scarcely  anything  since  Larsen 's  letter  had 
reached  him,  and  dreading  to  encounter  Rose's  recrimina- 
tions while  in  that  depressed  and  almost  irresponsible 
condition,  he  turned  into  a  bar-room  before  entering  his 
peaceful  little  street,  and  swallowed  a  couple  of  stiff 

506 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

drinks.  The  raw  spirits  acted  promptly  and  powerfully 
upon  his  empty  stomach  and  cleared  his  brain  for  thought, 
but  did  not,  as  he  had  hoped,  induce  a  more  philosophical 
view  of  the  situation.  What  was  he  to  do  now,  he  pon- 
dered, as  he  wearily  bent  his  steps  towards  his  unattrac- 
tive home.  Make  a  clean  breast  of  the  whole  matter  to 
Gaidik  and  ask  for  her  help?  No!  At  least  not  yet! 
That  she  would  eagerly  respond  he  did  not  doubt  for  a 
moment,  but  he  could  not  bring  himself  to  confess  to 
the  only  person  whose  opinion  he  valued  what  a  total 
and  wretched  failure  he  had  proved  himself  to  be.  There 
was  yet  work  which  he  could  do,  and  would  at  once  apply 
for.  One  place  he  knew  of  where  he  could  earn  two 
dollars  a  day  washing  carriages,  and  two  dollars  a  day 
would  prevent  Rose  and  Kikette  from  starving.  He  felt 
that  he  would  sooner  sweep  the  mud  from  the  streets  than 
surrender  now,  and,  with  teeth  set  and  head  held  high, 
he  ascended  the  dark  staircase. 

Rose  had  her  chance  then!  Had  she  met  him  with  ten- 
der sympathy,  with  a  real  comprehension  of  the  distress 
and  humiliation  which  this  man  was  suffering  so  keenly, 
thanks  to  her  alone,  the  day  was  won — but  was  it  likely 
that  she  would  do  this  ?  As  a  matter  of  fact,  she  did  not, 
and  received  him,  indeed,  with  so  sour  and  bitter  a  mien, 
and  his  story  with  such  a  shrewish  and  angry  storminess, 
that  his  whole  being  revolted.  So  this  woman,  with  un- 
kempt hair,  with  doubtful  linen  beneath  a  frowsy  wrapper, 
and  sullen,  repellent  face,  was  what  he  had  sacrificed 
everything  for  —  even  Gaidik !  He  gazed  at  her  blank- 
ly for  a  few  seconds,  and  then  suddenly  his  power  of  en- 
durance gave  way,  and  like  a  torrent  forcing  its  path 
at  last  through  the  stoutest  restraints,  all  that  had  lain 
dormant  within  him  for  so  many  years  broke  from  his 
lips.  He  began  at  first  with  that  semi-bantering  light- 
so; 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

ness  of  manner,  which  was  his  when  seriously  touched, 
and  which  had  puzzled  and  bewildered  far  cleverer 
people  than  Rose.  He  and  she  belonged  to  two  stations 
in  life  as  far  apart  as  two  stations  could  be,  and  they  had 
never  been  "friends"  in  any  sense  of  the  word;  for  a  long 
time  they  had  been  mere  chain-companions,  intensely 
alive  —  as  such  companions  invariably  are  —  to  each 
other's  shortcomings,  and  as  the  rancor  of  the  past  rose 
in  waves  about  him  to  meet  the  exceeding  misery  of  the 
present,  Loic's  words  borrowed  from  this  dark  con- 
junction accents  which  were  no  longer  those  of  banter, 
and  which  made  Rose  shudder  where  she  sat  hunched 
up  on  the  edge  of  a  chair,  looking  at  him  furtively  between 
down-cast  lids.  Never  had  he  thus  spoken,  and  noticing 
the  slight  odor  of  whiskey  lingering  about  him,  from  those 
two  unfortunate  drinks,  she  decided  that  for  her  subse- 
quent purposes  he  was  drunk — dangerously  drunk !  That 
which  surprised  and  terrified  her  most,  however,  was  that 
he  spoke  slowly,  almost  softly,  as  he  advanced  with  his 
awful  requisitoire  —  an  act  of  accusation  directed,  for 
the  matter  of  that,  as  much  against  himself  as  against 
her — the  Kergoat  temper  had  momentarily  vanished, 
leaving  behind  it  something  which  filled  her  with  a  far 
greater  dread. 

"And  this,"  he  concluded  at  last,  "is  what  we  have 
done,  you  and  I!"  Then  suddenly  he  laughed. 

"Oh,  don't!"  she  gasped. 

"Don't  what?"  he  asked,  sitting  quite  still,  his  sunken 
eyes  fixed  steadily  upon  her. 

"Laugh!"  she  said,  through  her  white  lips. 

"You  may  thank  God,"  he  said,  in  the  same  monoto- 
nous, utterly  unemotional  voice,  "that  I  am  what  I  am. 
Another  man  under  similar  circumstances  might  act  dif- 
ferently. If  I  were  not  what  I  am,  your  future — would 

508 


THE   TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

be  different;  but  you  will  perhaps  know  some  day  what 
you  have  neglected — what  you  have  lost!" 

"  Oh-h!"  she  cried,  as  if  he  had  hit  her.  "  Oh-h,  I  hate 
you — you — you  beastly  Aristocrat!" 

He  merely  nodded  his  head,  and,  turning  away,  walked 
quietly  into  the  only  corner  of  the  little  "  apartment " 
which  he  could  call  his  own,  a  mere  closet,  where  trunks 
and  boxes  were  piled  up,  but  where,  near  the  only  window, 
stood  a  little  table  with  his  writing  materials  and  Gaidik's 
portrait  leaning  against  a  vigorous  plant  of  Marguerites 
he  had  lovingly  tended  for  months.  In  a  corner  stood  a 
rickety  cane  lounge,  and  on  that — after  carefully  locking 
the  door — he  flung  himself  at  full  length  face  downward, 
sobbing  like  a  child. 

In  later  days  Loic  de  Kergoat  could  bring  back  to  his 
memory  no  distinct  recollection  of  how  that  night  had 
passed.  There  was  an  indefinite  remembrance  of  the 
steady,  fatiguing  rattle  of  the  cable-cars  on  the  neigh- 
boring avenue,  and  the  raucous  howls  of  some  belated 
drunkards  making  the  balmy  autumn  air  hideous  with 
their  obscene  songs  somewhere  in  the  distance,  mingled 
with  his  blunted  thoughts,  as  he  finally  glided  away  from 
the  agony  that  shook  him  into  the  sleep  of  utter  ex- 
haustion. 

A  little  square  patch  of  sunlight  surrounded  Gaidik's 
picture  as  he  at  last  awoke,  unrefreshed  and  aching  all  over, 
and  for  a  long  time  he  lay  with  eyes  half  closed  looking 
at  it.  The  usual  healthy  brown  of  his  face  had  faded  to 
an  ashy  tinge,  and  his  hands  were  clinched  at  his  sides. 
It  seemed  as  if  he  were  listening  to  some  far-off  sound  in 
a  total  rigor  of  attention,  and  not  one  of  his  features 
moved.  Presently,  however,  full  consciousness  began  to 
return  to  his  veiled  eyes,  and  he  slowly  sat  up  with  an 
expression  of  surprise.  He  could  not  quite  understand 

509 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

as  yet  what  had  happened,  why  he  was  lying  there  fully 
dressed,  and  especially  why  he  did  not  as  usual  hear 
Kikette's  merry  laughter  and  gayly  trotting  little  feet 
resounding  on  the  carpetless  floors.  The  faint  surprise 
reflected  on  his  haggard  face  deepened  after  a  moment 
into  anxiety,  and,  rising,  he  shook  himself,  and  unlocking 
the  door  passed  into  the  sunlit  little  kitchen,  hoping  to 
find  the  child  there  at  her  breakfast,  as  he  always  did 
when  by  chance  he  overslept  himself ;  but  it  was  empty, 
as  were  the  neighboring  bedrooms  and  bath.  Never  be- 
fore had  Rose  taken  Kikette  out,  when  he  himself  was 
at  home,  without  his  permission,  and  a  sudden  pang  of 
real  fear  made  Loic  glance  at  his  darling's  small,  cur- 
tained bed.  Could  it  be  possible  that  she  was  sick,  and 
that  the  mother  had  gone  for  assistance,  neglecting  to 
call  him  in  her  resentment  for  last  night.  With  trem- 
bling, hesitating  fingers  he  pulled  back  the  muslin  dra- 
peries and  bent  over  the  white  pillow.  No,  thank  God! 
Kikette  was  not  there;  but  what  was  that  fastened  by  a 
long  hat-pin,  where  his  little  maid's  sunny  head  usually 
rested  ? — a  closely  written  paper — and  as  once,  years  be- 
fore, in  the  case  of  a  parting  maternal  missive,  he  seized 
upon  it  with  a  heart  full  of  black  foreboding,  and  stood 
reading  it  in  the  golden  morning  light. 

"You  need  not  search  for  us.  We  are  with  those  who  will 
know  how  to  guard  us  from  discovery.  Two  or  three  times 
lately  you  have  raised  your  hand  as  if  wishful  to  strike  me, 
and  I  don't  care  to  await  the  moment  when  you  do.  I'll  have 
to  hold  strong  guarantees  of  altered  conduct  before  I  return  to 
you  again,  or  let  you  see  Kikette,  you  may  be  sure!  For  years 
I  have  trembled  before  you  and  been  your  slave,  but  I'm  tired  of 
it  now,  as  also  of  working  for  nothing.  Half  the  labor  I  am  doing 
here  will  bring  me  good  wages,  which,  at  least,  will  be  something, 
and  I'm  going  to  try  my  hand  at  working  for  a  reward.  Later, 
when  I  think  that  you  have  had  sufficient  time  to  regret  your 
brutality  and  injustice,  I'll  let  you  have  an  address  where  you 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET      , 

can  write  and  tell  me  so.  You  were  drunk  last  night,  I  am  sure 
of  it,  and  I  can  see  nothing  for  Kikette  and  me  in  the  future 
but  starvation  and  blows,  so  bien  au  revoir,  mon  vieux,  for  the 
present!  You  can  tell  whom  you  please  that  I'm  lying,  if  you  like, 
you  won't  be  believed;  I've  seen  to  that,  and  in  America  wife- 
beaters  are  not  looked  upon  kindly.  It's  I  who  hold  the  whip 
now,  thank  God!  ROSE." 

Loic  read  this  ignominy  to  the  end,  then  swaying 
slightly,  as  if  the  ground  were  growing  unsteady  beneath 
his  feet,  he  grasped  the  rail  of  Kikette's  bed  with  both 
hands  to  support  himself. 

"What  is  the  matter?  What  is  the  matter?"  he  mut- 
tered, helplessly.  He  stood  rigid  for  a  moment,  and 
then  suddenly  tottered  forward  and  fell  across  the  little 
white  cot. 


CHAPTER   XXV 

Gray  mist!  gray  mist!  in  a  breathless  pall, 
Idle  they  swing  to  the  swinging  vast, 
And  the  gray  waves  start  from  the  smoky  wall 
Like  memories  from  the  past; 
And  a  snaky  Fear  doth  enfold  the  ship 
As  the  chilling  damp  doth  bead  and  drip, 
And  she  faintly  hearkeneth,  twice,  and  thrice, 
The  surges  gnash  on  the  unseen  ice. 
Oh  sing  a  world  in  a  sodden  shroud, 
Of  Faces  glimpsed  in  the  coiling  cloud  I 
And  whisper  thin  as  their  voices  trist 
As  they  fade  and  fail, 

Gray  mist!  The  Voyage — M.  M. 

DAY  and  night  Loic  searched  unremittingly.  Wild 
with  anxiety,  almost  distraught  by  horrible  fears  for 
his  little  Kikette,  he  haunted  every  place  where  there 
was  the  slightest  chance  that  she  could  have  been  taken. 
Over  and  over  again  he  appealed  for  assistance  to  the 
French  Consulate,  twice  he  went  to  Caulfield's  Farm,  and 
even — for  the  absence  of  his  darling  somehow  suggested 
death  to  him — visited  the  hospitals  and  the  morgue,  but 
all  his  efforts  were  vain.  Rose  and  Kikette  had  vanished 
as  completely  as  if  the  earth  had  opened  to  swallow  them. 
No  neighbors  could  be  found  who  had  even  seen  them 
leave  the  house.  Assistance  Rose  must  have  had,  though, 
for  she  was  without  money,  and  since  the  Caulfields, 
whom  he  considered  well  disposed  to  him,  denied  all 
knowledge  of  the  matter,  he  was  forced  to  conclude  that 
she  had  utilized  the  long  hours  of  his  absence  at  work, 

512 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

or  in  search  of  it,  to  form  some  connections  which  she 
had  carefully  concealed. 

It  never  for  a  moment  entered  his  head  that  she  had 
fled  with  another  man — her  lack  of  beauty  and  charm 
alone  seemed  to  set  aside  that  solution  of  the  question; 
and,  moreover,  bad  as  he  knew  her  to  be,  his  honest  nature 
could  not  assimilate  the  idea  of  her  taking  Kikette  with 
her  if  doing  such  a  thing. 

About  Rose's  motives,  however,  he  did  not  in  the  least 
concern  himself,  and  he  only  considered  them  at  all  in 
the  hope  of  chancing  upon  some  clew  to  her  whereabouts, 
as  one  may  calculate  the  landing  of  a  bullet  by  gauging 
the  force  behind  it.  All  that  affected  him  was  the 
knowledge  that  something  terribly  essential  had  been 
torn  out  of  his  life,  something  the  loss  of  which  was  like 
slackening  the  sinews  of  the  arm,  extinguishing  the 
lamp  within  the  brain  and  the  fire  within  the  heart  —  a 
loss  that  even  more  than  physical  fatigue  made  it  seem 
impossible  to  hold  up  his  head  with  the  old  erectness, 
or  to  walk  without  dragging  feet. 

Yet  after  the  wild  rush  of  the  first  few  days,  when  it 
at  last  became  apparent  that  there  was  no  trail  to  fol- 
low, to  remain  inactive  was  an  impossibility.  Like  a 
dogged  swimmer  whose  strength  is  exhausted,  but  who, 
though  blinded,  dazed,  and  half  conscious,  still  mechani- 
cally maintains  a  feeble  stroke,  he  tramped  the  crowded 
streets  hour  after  hour,  questioning  every  policeman  he 
met,  or  hanging  aimlessly  about  railroad  stations,  and 
only  returning  to  his  deserted  "home" — ah,  what  an 
irony  lay  in  that  word  now — to  snatch  a  few  moments 
of  nightmare-ridden  sleep,  from  which  he  awoke  with  a 
sense  of  bewilderment  and  heart-emptiness  that  made 
him  look  more  than  once  longingly  at  the  revolver  hang- 
ing above  his  bed. 

5*3 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

Then,  as  soon  as  another  morning  had  dawned,  he  was 
off  again.  He  felt  no  hunger — he  loathed  the  sight  of 
food — and  when  at  length  his  legs  would  carry  him  no 
farther,  he  choked  down  a  mere  bite  with  the  aid  of 
whiskey,  in  haste  to  resume  his  quest.  He  preferred  the 
whiskey ;  it  was  cheaper  (he  had  very  little  money  left) , 
and  it  seemed  to  dull  sometimes  that  unrelenting  pain 
as  of  some  cord  strained  to  the  utmost  tension  within 
his  breast. 

At  certain  moments  he  wondered,  with  a  throb  of  ap- 
prehension, whether  his  brain  was  not  giving  way;  he 
caught  strange  inflections  in  his  own  voice  which  he  knew 
had  never  been  there  before,  and  in  his  dry,  stony  eyes  there 
was  so  terrible  and  hopeless  an  agony  that  he  was  con- 
scious of  the  curiosity  he  aroused  even  in  total  strangers. 

As  day  followed  day,  and  hope  grew  less  and  less, 
Loic  slipped  gradually  into  a  state  of  despondent  indif- 
ference that  words  would  be  inadequate  to  express.  The 
world  was  like  a  dream  to  him,  Kikette  herself  became 
a  half -remembered  vision  of  aching  remoteness,  life,  in- 
deed, resolved  itself  into  an  alternation  of  weary  mo- 
tion and  exhausted  slumbers  that  carried  him  off  to  a 
land  of  dreadful  shadows. 

At  length,  worn  out  in  body  and  mind,  he  ceased  his 
peregrinations  about  the  city,  and  took  to  brooding  in 
his  empty  rooms  beside  the  wistful  and  deeply  sym- 
pathetic Teuss.  Here  a  heavy  drowsiness  frequently 
overtook  him — sure  sign  that  the  shock  of  the  crushing 
blow  was  beginning  to  pass  away — and  one  morning,  after 
having  slept  the  clock  twice  around,  he  awoke,  weak  in- 
deed, and  with  trembling  hands,  that,  when  he  reached 
for  anything  arrived  sooner  than  he  intended,  but  clear 
in  brain  and  confronted  by  a  situation  which  gave  the 
necessary  spur  to  his  reluctant  energies. 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

His  money  was  exhausted.  The  last  month's  rent, 
during  a  moment  of  comparative  and  provident  affluence, 
had  been  settled  in  advance,  so  he  had  merely  to  make  ar- 
rangements for  the  tradesmen's  unpaid  bills  before  seek- 
ing yet  cheaper  quarters.  These,  after  placing  his  few 
poor  sticks  of  furniture  in  storage,  he  found  in  a  wretched 
lodging-house,  far  down-town,  taking  with  him  only  one 
trunk  containing  his  sadly  diminished  wardrobe  and  the 
few  souvenirs  he  valued,  among  which  were  some  small, 
broken  toys  —  the  last  Kikette  had  played  with.  In  a 
neighboring  stable  Teuss,  the  faithful  companion  and 
sole  remaining  friend,  was  housed  in  a  backyard  beneath 
a  shed  which  would  presently,  during  the  coming  winter, 
be  but  a  poor  protection  against  the  severity  of  New 
York  weather ;  but  he,  unlike  his  master,  had  so  far  taken 
no  harm  from  their  joint  descent  into  those  depths  the  in- 
nermost heart  of  which  had  now  almost  been  reached. 

These  brief  preparations  made,  he  marched  one  morn- 
ing into  a  livery-stable  and  enrolled  himself  as  carriage- 
washer,  this  being  the  employment  which,  while  paying 
enough  to  keep  body  and  soul  together,  was  the  most 
mechanical  and  easily  transacted  of  all,  and  afforded  the 
greatest  amount  of  leisure  in  which  to  still  search  for 
Kikette  or — to  brood.  Had  a  higher  position  offered 
itself,  it  is  doubtful  whether  he  would  have  taken  it. 
Ambition  and  energy  were  dead  in  him.  What  he  wanted 
was  Kikette,  if  he  could  recapture  her,  otherwise  the 
means  of  existence  and  peace ;  peace  and  the  cessation  of 
torturing  thoughts  were  all  he  desired — a  dangerous  state 
of  mind  for  a  man  to  fall  into,  and  one  fraught  with  ob- 
vious temptations. 

After  a  few  days  Teuss  was  allowed  to  have  quarters 
on  the  scene  of  his  labors,  but  this  small  privilege  — 
a  highly  prized  one  for  both  master  and  dog — was  des- 

5*5 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

tined  in  the  fulness  of  time,  alas,  to  be  yet  another  source 
of  sorrow. 

Meanwhile  the  young  Aristocrat,  born  to  love,  to  fight, 
to  defy  death  at  the  hands  of  enemies  worthy  of  his 
steel,  like  his  ancestors  had  done  before  him  for  many 
centuries,  and  to  bear  a  brilliant  part  in  some  of  those 
undaunted  epics  which  raise  life  out  of  the  sludge  of  com- 
monplace to  the  level  of  an  heroic  past,  clad  in  a  coarse 
woollen  shirt  and  an  always  amazingly  clean  pair  of  over- 
alls, slaved  away,  brush  and  sponge  in  hand,  at  multi- 
farious vehicles,  as  they  returned  mud-caked  from  picnic 
parties,  funerals,  weddings,  or  other  such  celebrations, 
grave  or  gay. 

It  was  significant  of  the  change  in  him  that  he  was 
disliked  and  avoided  by  his  fellow-employe's,  an  aversion 
in  which  Teuss,  partly  because  of  his  master,  partly 
from  the  dog's  own  aloofness  of  temper,  fully  shared. 
Loic,  the  friend  of  all  the  world,  had  always  been  adored 
by  his  inferiors,  and  more  than  ever  so  by  those  with 
whom,  of  late,  evil  fortune  had  placed  him  on  a  footing 
of  equality;  but  that  charm  had  gone  from  him  with 
many  other  things,  and  in  this  haggard-faced,  silent  man 
his  present  associates  only  saw  a  person  whose  aspect, 
in  spite  of  shirt-sleeves  and  blue  jeans,  was  offensively 
suggestive  of  a  superior  social  sphere,  and  whose  clean- 
liness in  the  midst  of  a  dirty  occupation  was  little  short 
of  insulting.  At  the  same  time  there  was  that  about 
the  new-comer  that  induced  them  to  refrain  from  all 
direct  expressions  of  their  sentiments,  though  at  times 
glances  and  muttered  words  passed  from  group  to  group 
which  might  have  attracted  a  less  inattentive  ear. 

His  first  Sunday  "out"  was  employed  in  going  once 
more  to  the  Caulfields'  farm,  since  he  still  could  not  help 
believing  that  Rose  had  confided  her  whereabouts  to 

516 


THE    TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

them,  and  that  they  alone  could  put  him  on  the  right 
track.  The  farmer  himself  he  could  see  but  for  a  bare 
instant — he  pleaded  pressing  business — but  the  women, 
fired  by  the  fanaticism  of  what  they  deemed  a  worthy 
cause,  played  their  part  so  well — what  woman,  even  the 
simplest,  cannot  do  so  on  occasion — that,  more  than  ever 
heavy-hearted,  he  tramped  wearily  back  along  that  road 
he  had  traversed  so  often  a  year  ago.  Then  he  had  com- 
plained of  his  lot,  but  what  was  it  compared  to  the  un- 
utterable pain  he  now  endured? 

Had  he  but  known  it,  the  women  who  had  so  glibly 
lied  to  him  on  that  afternoon  were,  immediately  after 
his  departure,  in  receipt  of  an  extremely  vigorous  and  in- 
dignant rating  from  the  husband  and  father,  who,  coerced 
by  them,  had  reluctantly  consented  to  leave  the  matter 
in  their  hands,  and,  manlike,  was  now  cruelly  sorry 
for  it.  He  alone  of  that  prim  household  did  not  quite 
believe  Rose's  tale  of  woe,  and  had  been  averse  to  re- 
ceiving her  beneath  his  roof  after  her  flight.  Indeed,  he 
had  flatly  refused  to  let  her  remain  there,  and  she  and 
Kikette  were  now  living  with  his  buxom  daughter  Su- 
sannah, who  had  recently  set  up  a  little  boarding-house 
in  the  neighboring  townlet. 

"Gumm  it  all!" — the  farmer  was  a  strict  church-goer, 
and  knew  how  to  conveniently  skirt  profanity — "gumm 
it  all!"  he  bellowed,  angrily;  "that  poor  chap  isn't  by  a 
gummed  sight  as  black  as  he  is  painted,  and  if  it  wasn't 
that  I'd  be  disgracing  you  all  by  so  doing  I'd  run  after 
him  this  same  minute  and  tell  him  the  truth.  I  tell  you 
what,  Amanda,"  turning  furiously  towards  his  weeping 
wife,  "you'll  be  sorry  some  day  to  have  acted  that  cruel 
to  him.  I  don't  like  this  Mrs.  Rose;  she  ain't  straight, 
in  spite  of  her  meek  airs;  and  the  leetle  gal,  Keeket,  who 
trembles  in  her  teenchy  shoes  before  her  mamma — if  you 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE   NET 

want  to  know  the  truth— owned  up  to  me  that  she'd  never 
seen  her  daddy  strike  her.  She  cried  as  if  her  leetle  heart 
would  break  when  I  asked  her  if  she'd  like  to  see  him 
again.  I  don't  hold  with  them  furriners,  Amanda,  but 
he's  a  fine  feller,  drink  or  no  drink,  lies  or  no  lies,  and 
you're  a  pack  of  fools  to  help  her  out,  as  you're  a-doing," 

Never  had  the  worthy  and  preternaturally  silent  pater- 
familias thus  "unbuttoned  his  collar" — to  use  his  own 
expression — and  his  tearful  womankind  sat  as  quiet  as 
mice,  trembling  with  terror. 

"Ya-as,"  he  resumed,  striding  violently  up  and  down 
the  stuffy  "parlor,"  "Mrs.  Rose's  leetle  ways  don't  suit 
me.  Here  she  is  playing  waitress  in  pink  gowns  and 
frilled  aprons  to  the  pack  of  drummers  and  other  gummed 
ijiots  who  board  with  Susannah.  She  likes  it,  too — you 
can  see  that  with  one  eye  closed — better  than  looking 
after  her  kid  and  her  husband,  and  that  while  he  is  break- 
ing his  heart  all  alone  workin'  like  a  dog.  Didn't  you 
notice  his  hands?  They're  rougher  than  mine,  and  all 
swollen  and  scratched  like.  It  makes  me  sick,  d'  you 
hear,  to  think  on!"  and,  with  a  violent  bang  of  the  door, 
he  left  them  appalled  and  dismayed,  to  go  and  air  his 
wrath  among  his  pigs  and  chickens. 

The  shallow-natured  Rose  was,  as  he  had  said,  quite 
reconciled  to  her  temporary  lot.  The  feeling  that  she 
was  punishing  Loic  added  delicious  spiciness  to  her  lit- 
tle fugue — punishing  him  with  one  last  fell  blow — for  his 
self-forgetfulness,  his  long  years  of  patient  endurance, 
his  boundless  sacrifices!  She,  Rose  Billot,  had  it  now  in 
her  power  to  pay  him  back  for  not  having  loved  her  as 
she  understood  love,  for  having  conferred  every  benefit, 
and  given  everything  in  return  for  nothing — and  wasn't 
she  enjoying  this  golden  opportunity!  Her  flat,  plebeian 
foot  was  on  his  proud  neck,  and  with  a  relish  which  made 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

her  positively  lick  her  thin  lips,  she,  metaphorically  speak- 
ing, crunched  her  broad  heel  into  his  flesh,  and  said  a 
dozen  times  a  day,  exultantly,  to  herself,  "C'est  bien  fait 
pour  lui  /" 

What  means  she  had  employed  to  silence  and  subdue 
Kikette  was  and  remained  a  secret.  She  was  not  par- 
ticularly unkind  to  her,  nor  did  she  really  ill-treat  her, 
for  was  she  not  her  only  trump -card  ?  But  still  she  was 
scarcely  an  ideal  mother,  and  the  child  pined  for  her  father. 
In  a  little  while  Rose  meant,  of  course,  to  return  to  Loic, 
who,  to  recover  his  darling  little  daughter,  would 
naturally  accept  any  terms  she  herself  might  choose  to 
impose!  Yes,  she  would  then,  even,  perhaps,  grandly  con- 
descend to  marry  him — that  is,  if  the  news  from  Brittany 
seemed  satisfactory  to  her.  The  Marquise  de  Kergoat, 
by  the  last  reports,  was  not  in  good  health,  and  had, 
moreover,  never  been  very  robust.  Why,  then,  should 
she  not  jaire  une  -fin,  and  bag  the  strawberry  -  leaved 
coronet,  together  with  Kergoat  and  all  its  inheritance  of 
grandeurs  and  magnificences  ?  What  a  final  triumph 
for  Mr.  Lierre's  "dishonored"  and  despised  niece  it  would 
be! 

That,  after  all,  might  perhaps  be  the  best  solution  of 
the  dilemma,  and  blithely  she  moved  among  her  friend 
Susannah's  free-mannered  customers,  with  never  a  frown 
or  a  sulk  now,  laughing,  joking,  even  dancing  with  them 
of  a  Saturday  night  in  the  dining-room,  cleared  of  its 
dingy  tables,  for  she  held  a  privileged  position  as  bosom 
friend  of  the  "Madam,"  and  took  care  to  surround  her- 
self with  a  halo  of  romance  which  made  the  clerks  and 
commercial  travellers  gasp  with  curiosity,  although  she 
now  went  by  the  plain  and  unaristocratic  alias  of  "Mrs. 
Thompson." 

Susannah,  gullible  and  good-natured  as  ever,  paid  her 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

eighteen  whole  dollars  a  month,  which  were  recklessly 
spent  on  gay  prints  for  herself,  bright  ribbons  for  both 
her  and  Kikette,  and  numerous  other  trifles  that  rejoiced 
her  vulgar  pellet  of  a  soul. 

Ah,  poor  Loic!  bending  over  his  muddy  task,  had  he 
deserved  quite  all  this — and  what  was  to  follow? 

"If  in  one  month  from  now  I  haven't  found  my  little 
Kikette,  I'll  put  my  beastly  pride  in  my  pocket  and  write 
the  whole  truth  to  Gaidik,"  this  misguided  and  wretched- 
ly unhappy  man  said  to  himself  on  the  evening  of  one  of 
the  first  really  severe  days  of  the  winter.  He  felt  utterly 
dejected  and  very  ill,  having  caught  a  bad  cold,  thanks 
to  his  perpetually  drenched  condition  and  waterlogged, 
worn-out  boots.  Clearly  he  could  not  endure  the  present 
state  of  affairs  much  longer.  His  slender  earnings  barely 
fed  him  and  his  dog  and  paid  for  their  comfortless  re- 
spective lodgings.  That  afternoon,  too,  he  had  had  an 
annoying  affair,  thanks  to  poor  Teuss,  who,  hearing  an 
intoxicated  driver  belonging  to  the  establishment  snarl  at 

"that  G d—  -  stuck-up  pig  of  a  washer,"  as  he  was 

pleased  to  call  Loic,  had  suddenly  flung  himself  at  the 
fellow's  throat,  and  but  for  his  master's  lightning-like 
interference  would  have  instantly  strangled  him.  There 
had  been  something  of  a  mele"e,  and  the  much-frightened 
and  magically  sobered  coachman  had  taken  himself  off 
muttering  revengeful  threats.  "I'll  remove  Teuss  from 
there  to-morrow,"  Loic  pondered  while  trying  vainly 
to  go  to  sleep  on  his  hard  and  uninviting  bed  that  night, 
"for  there's  no  knowing  what  that  brute  might  do  to 
him." 

Unfortunately,  the  brute  had  already  acted,  and  when, 
at  five  o'clock  in  the  morning,  Loic  reached  the  stables, 
he  found  the  splendid  dog  lying  inert  on  his  litter  of 
straw,  evidently  ill.  With  a  pang  of  apprehension  tug- 

520 


THE   TRJDENT   AND   THE    NET 

ging  at  his  heart,  he  went  out  again  to  procure  some 
fresh  milk  for  him,  but,  in  spite  of  an  honest  effort  to 
obey  his  master,  Teuss  could  not  swallow  a  drop  of 
it,  and  the  "Vet,"  instantly  summoned,  declared  that  it 
was  a  well-marked  case  of  acute  gastritis.  At  first  it  did 
not  occur  to  Loic  that  foul  play  had  something  to  do 
with  this,  he  was  too  dazed  and  upset  to  think,  for  the 
illness  of  his  sole  remaining  companion  and  friend — 
canine  though  he  might  be — was  no  trifle  to  him ;  but  as 
the  dreary  hours  wore  on,  and  the  dog  grew  from  bad 
to  worse,  a  suspicion  of  the  truth  began  to  make  its  way 
into  his  worried  brain. 

Fortunately  the  tragedy  was  a  short  one,  and  an  hour 
before  dawn  Teuss's  golden  eyes,  that  had  been  fixed 
upon  his  master  during  all  his  pitiful  agony,  in  an  aston- 
ished and  pathetically  helpless  appeal,  suddenly  closed. 
A  last  shudder  shook  the  huge  body,  and  the  fine  head 
pillowed  on  Loic's  lap  grew  rigid. 

Gently  disengaging  himself,  he  rose  and  stood  for  a 
few  moments  gazing  at  the  gaunt  form  extended  on  the 
straw  at  his  feet;  then,  with  an  impatient  gesture,  he 
drew  the  back  of  his  hand  across  his  eyes,  and,  bending, 
lifted  the  limp,  astonishingly  heavy  mass  from  the 
ground  as  easily  as  if  it  had  weighed  but  a  few  ounces, 
and  carried  it  across  a  yard  to  the  small  office,  where  by 
chance  that  night  the  "Vet"  in  charge  of  the  horses  was 
sitting  up,  to  be  near  a  serious  case  of  pneumonia  con- 
tracted by  a  valuable  "boarder"  belonging  to  a  wealthy 
patron.  With  his  foot  Loic  pushed  the  door  open,  and 
in  a  singularly  calm  voice  said  to  the  amazed  watcher 
drowsing  over  a  newspaper: 

"Would  you  be  so  good,  Sir,  as  to  perform  an  autopsy 
on  my  dog.  Of  course  I'll  pay  whatever  you  usually 
charge."  The  "Doctor"  silently  rose.  He  had  often 

34  52I 


THE   TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

puzzled  over  this  singular  carriage-washer,  who  bore 
himself  like  a  Prince  while  working  like  four  ordinary 
men,  and  suddenly,  addressing  him  as  an  equal,  he  said, 
speculatively : 

"Have  you  any  special  reason  for  wishing  it — poison 
for  instance?" 

"Yes,"  was  the  short  answer. 

"Very  well.  I'll  begin  at  once,  then,  but  I  don't  want 
any  pay,  my  dear  fellow."  And,  without  another  word, 
he  instantly  set  about  his  task. 

When  Loic  left  the  veterinary  surgeon  the  cold,  biting 
wind  of  the  yard  made  him.  cough.  He  was  walking  slow- 
ly, with  out-stretched  hands,  for,  although  the  bleak  day 
had  begun  to  break,  yet  the  gray,  snow -laden  atmos- 
phere, contrasting  suddenly  with  the  warm  light  of  the 
office  he  had  just  quitted,  seemed  almost  darkness  to 
him. 

"Powdered  glass!"  he  whispered  twice,  his  lips  scarce- 
ly forming  the  words,  as  he  obstinately  paced  up  and 
down  near  the  side  entrance  used  by  the  drivers  arriving 
to  assume  their  day's  work.  "Powdered  glass,"  he  mur- 
mured again,  as  if  to  sear  upon  his  consciousness  the 
appalling  barbarity  of  the  thing.  Snow,  in  tiny,  feathery 
flakes,  was  beginning  to  drop  lightly  from  the  low, 
brooding  sky,  and  mechanically  Loic  quickened  his  quar- 
ter-deck promenade. 

A  few  men,  carriage  -  washers  like  himself  and  stable 
hands,  were  now  dragging  drowsy  feet  across  the  pave- 
ment towards  the  stables,  but  he  paid  absolutely  no  at- 
tention to  them,  and  kept  his  anxious  eyes  upon  the 
half-open  street  entrance.  Then,  as  a  certain  heavy- 
shouldered,  burly  form  at  last  made  its  appearance, 
quicker  than  thought  Loic  leaped  to  meet  Teuss's 
murderer. 

522 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

"  You  hound!"  was  all  he  said.  There  was  a  quick  dive 
forward,  a  grip  with  iron  arms,  a  backward  step,  and  a 
heave — ah,  what  a  heave!  The  bulky  driver  literally 
flew  over  Loic's  head  to  the  other  side  of  the  yard,  alight- 
ing, unfortunately  for  his  antagonist's  purpose,  upon  a 
heap  of  freshly  removed  litter.  He  had,  however,  scarce- 
ly staggered  to  his  feet  before  Loic  was  back  at  him,  and 
had  begun  to  scientifically  pound  him  into  a  jelly.  There 
was  a  general  hubbub,  several  men  sprang  on  Loic  from 
behind,  and  he  disappeared  in  a  tangle  of  arms  and  legs, 
fighting  on  even  when  pressed  down  by  the  sheer  weight 
of  numbers,  struggling  and  writhing  up  from  the  ground 
and  lifting  bodily  the  mass  of  his  adversaries  with  him 
as  a  stag  does  the  pack  of  worrying  hounds  before  the 
"  death."  Then  some  one  ran  for  an  officer,  and,  with  a 
derisively  gasped  "Ten  to  one  as  usual!"  Loic  was  over- 
powered and  taken,  together  with  the  badly  damaged 
driver  and  several  of  his  more  or  less  disabled  friends,  to 
the  nearest  police-station.  But  in  the  rear  of  the  pro- 
cession walked  the  "Vet,"  who,  witness  of  the  incident, 
was  muttering  mingled  curses  and  praise  in  his  short  - 
pointed  beard,  and  who,  as  it  happened,  being  the  son- 
in-law  of  the  captain  of  police  on  duty,  determined  to 
pull  "that  brave  French  lad"  through,  if  it  was  in  his 
power  to  do  so. 

It  apparently  was,  for,  long  before  fashionable  New 
York  opened  its  eyes  that  morning,  Loic,  bruised,  bat- 
tered, with  one  shoulder  sprained,  and  still  inwardly 
raging  as  if  all  the  demons  of  hell  were  making  sport  of 
his  soul,  stopped  at  a  bar-room,  purchased  a  bottle  of 
whiskey,  and,  carrying  it  beneath  his  uninjured  arm, 
sought  his  miserable  room,  where  he  deliberately  drank 
it  to  the  last  drop  before  throwing  himself  upon  his  bed. 

"  No  money,  no  job,  no  home,  no  hope!"  he  said,  aloud, 

523 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

with  a  little,  sneering  laugh,  as  he  stretched  himself 
sleepily  to  his  full  length,  "and  I  don't  care  a  damn  any 
longer!"  he  added,  defiantly,  closing  his  burning  eyes 
to  the  ghastly  morning  light  filtering  through  the  dirty 
window-curtains. 

His  arm  was  so  painful  and  swollen  when  he  at  last 
awoke  that,  dressing  himself,  he  walked  to  the  French 
Hospital  to  have  it  attended  to.  "  A  pauper's  way — but 
what  else  am  I?"  he  reflected,  bitterly,  as  he  crossed  the 
dismal  threshold  of  the  gloomy  building,  which  he  was 
not  to  leave  for  several  days,  since  the  examining  physi- 
cian, at  the  sound  of  his  cough  and  the  sight  of  his 
flushed,  feverish  face,  consigned  him,  after  asking  him  a 
very  few  questions,  to  a  long,  white  ward,  which  strange- 
ly reminded  him  of  that  of  Pernambuco. 

During  the  quiet  hours  he  spent  there  he  had  full  time 
to  ponder  over  his  situation,  and  he  had  almost  made  up 
his  mind  to  write  at  once  to  Gaidik,  when  he  received 
news  from  her,  thanks  to  his  friend  the  veterinary  sur- 
geon, who  frequently  came  round  to  visit  him,  and  offered 
to  go  to  the  post-office  on  his  behalf.  There  were  two 
letters  from  her — strange  that  he  should  have  forgotten 
the  paste  restante  of  late  —  and  he  seized  upon  them 
with  feverish,  delighted  hands.  Both  contained  sub- 
stantial checks,  and  this  instantly  altered  his  immediate 
plans  by  giving  him  the  means  to  institute  a  last  and 
more  complete  search  for  his  little  Kikette.  Moreover, 
Gaidik — he  read  it  between  the  lines — was  herself  going 
through  difficult  and  sorrowful  moments,  and  on  no 
account  would  he  just  then  add  to  her  trouble.  Surely 
she  had  already  suffered  enough  on  his  account,  he  re- 
gretfully thought,  smoothing  the  closely  written  sheets 
upon  his  counterpane,  so  he  must  endeavor  to  pull 
through  a  little  longer  without  alarming  and  hurting  her. 

524 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

Poor  little  Gaidik!  She,  too,  was  unhappy,  and  betrayed 
so  much  distress  at  her  prolonged  and  enforced  separa- 
tion from  him  that  Loic  cursed  both  their  lucks  beneath 
his  breath. 

There  was  also  a  letter  addressed  in  the  well-known 
round  hand  of  Ghislain  d'Yffiniac,  which,  had  it  not  been 
for  the  stimulus  of  the  other  two,  he  could  scarcely  have 
ventured  to  open.  All  that  life  of  which  it  would  speak 
was  separated  from  him  by  such  a  bitter  gulf!  But,  as 
it  was,  he  drew  a  long  breath  and  doggedly  set  himself 
to  hearken  across  that  abyss  to  the  lengthy  chatter  of 
his  old  friend. 

Madame  de  Kergoat,  it  appeared — whom,  by-the-way, 
Ghislain  had  only  seen  at  a  distance,  for,  of  course,  they 
were  still  at  daggers-drawn — seemed  haughtier  and  more 
obstinate  than  ever,  but  shockingly  altered  in  looks;  in- 
deed, her  glorious,  raven  hair  was  now  streaked  with 
silver,  and  her  face  drawn  and  harsh  and  lined;  old 
Kerdougaszt  was  no  more,  and  his  stalwart  sons  lived 
now  quite  alone  in  their  ruined  tower;  Kadok,  too,  had 
joined  the  majority,  having  been  drowned  in  a  magnifi- 
cently reckless  attempt  to  rescue  the  crew  of  a  sinking 
sardine -boat  during  a  fearful  midsummer  storm;  the 
Riviers  were  both  prosperous  exceedingly  —  God  afflicts 
only  those  he  loves,  which  is  a  consolation,  no  doubt,  for 
the  afflicted!  Gynette  was  travelling  about  the  world, 
alone,  and,  as  Ghislain  put  it,  " inabordable  et  farouche 
comme  Diane  elle  meme!"  Loic  sighed.  "What  a  fool 
I  have  been!"  he  muttered,  and  resolutely  folded  and 
put  away  a  letter  so  conducive  to  melancholy  musings. 
Nevertheless,  the  crisp  rustle  of  Gaidik's  checks  acted 
upon  him  as  no  medicine  could  have  done,  and  the  linger- 
ing remnants  of  his  attack  of  grippe  were  so  successfully 
blown  away  by  the  hope  of  all  he  could  now  achieve  with 

525 


THE    TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

their  help  that  two  days  later  he  was  given  his  discharge 
from  the  hospital. 

Private  detective  agencies  —  God  save  the  mark!  — 
swallowed  with  prompt  avidity — and  without  attaining, 
alas,  any  result — the  sum  which  had  seemed,  comparative- 
ly speaking,  so  large  to  Loic,  and  once  again  he  found 
himself  no  nearer  his  cherished  aim,  and  practically 
penniless.  Now  was  the  time  for  him  to  give  up,  and 
he  knew  it.  The  winter  was  an  extraordinarily  severe 
one,  and,  as  Christmas  approached,  his  heart  completely 
misgave  him.  On  several  occasions  lately,  in  his  des- 
pair and  misery,  he  had  risked  the  succeeding  sense  of 
shame  and  degradation  and  yielded  to  the  overwhelming 
temptation  of  temporarily  forgetting  his  wretchedness  in 
drink.  At  first  he  hated  the  stuff,  and  shuddered  when 
bolting  down  the  rapid  and  numerous  doses  required  to 
bring  about  the  heavy,  dreamless  sleep,  the  mental  an- 
nihilation he  longed  for;  but,  alas,  only  too  soon  the 
necessity  of  stimulation — or  of  escape  from  tormenting 
thoughts — begot  that  desire  for  the  thing  itself,  which 
has  been  the  undoing  of  so  many,  and  with  singular  lu- 
cidity and  singular  indifference  to  his  subsequent  fate,  he 
judged  himself  a  lost  man. 

He  was  now  living  on  the  top  floor  of  a  small  Raines- 
law  hotel,  down-town.  His  room  was  a  dismal  one — a 
suicidal  place,  gloomy,  dirty,  shameful.  Its  faded  and 
worn  carpet  was  patched,  here,  there,  and  everywhere, 
with  variegated  remnants  of  long-departed  predecessors. 
The  narrow,  thinly  mattressed  bed,  covered  by  a  grimy 
counterpane,  stood  in  one  corner  facing  a  crooked  basin- 
stand,  while  the  chronically  unwashed  window  com- 
manded an  extensive  view  of  flat  roofs,  whereon  miser- 
able rags  were  hung  up  almost  perpetually  to  dry.  In 
default  of  blinds  or  curtains,  Loic  had  nailed  an  old 

526 


THE    TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

horse-blanket  before  it,  looped  up  during  the  day  by  a 
leathern  strap  fastened  to  the  lintel.  Moreover,  the 
atmosphere  of  this  attractive  apartment  was  permeated 
with  the  liquorous  odors  ascending  perpetually  from  the 
bar  below  stairs,  mixed  with  the  sour  pungency  of  the 
neighboring  fish  markets,  the  greasy  fragrance  of  cheap 
restaurants,  and  the  all-embracing  fumes  of  stale  beer 
sifted  from  other  countless  drinking  saloons  and  "dives  " 
near  by. 

Late  one  afternoon,  when  a  dense  fog  blurred  the  house- 
tops in  a  morose,  depressing  sea  of  grimy  shadow,  pierced 
at  intervals  by  rusty  iron  smoke-stacks  and  the  gaunt 
chimneys  of  many  factories,  Loic,  resisting  the  tempta- 
tion of  stopping  at  the  "hotel"  bar  as  he  came  in,  climbed 
up  the  foul,  dark  staircase  and  let  himself  into  his  room, 
a  sneer  curling  the  corners  of  his  mouth  at  the  thought 
of  the  paltry  victory  he  had  just  won  over  himself. 

For  a  few  moments  he  walked  up  and  down  the  filthy 
carpet,  beneath  which  he  could  feel  the  rough,  disjointed 
flooring  at  every  step,  and  a  twinge  of  utter  desolation 
penetrated  his  whole  being.  A  chill,  sour  wind  was  blow- 
ing in  from  the  half -open  window,  and  the  sudden  transi- 
tion from  the  congested  streets  to  this  cold,  hopeless-look- 
ing place  struck  him  to  the  very  marrow.  The  sense  of 
how  comforting  just  one  swallow  of  whiskey  would  be 
suggested  itself  imperiously,  but  he  repulsed  it  vehement- 
ly, his  better  nature  savagely  holding  on  to  the  promise 
he  had  given  himself  of  trying  to  find  out  if  he  was  abso- 
lutely dead  to  every  courageous  impulse. 

This  moment  of  complete  revolt  against  temptation 
surprised  him,  for  it  had  seemed  impossible  to  him  lately 
to  reconquer  himself  in  this  life  woven  about  with  snares, 
and  throughout  the  dismal  day  a  terrible  fit  of  the  blues 
had  lain  upon  him  as  heavy  as  lead.  Sometimes  in  the 

527 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

hurry  and  bustle  of  the  streets,  his  misery  was  temporar- 
ily lost  sight  of,  but  from  early  morning  to  the  present 
hour  everything  for  once  had  seemed  to  him  but  one  hor- 
rible and  profane  nightmare.  And  now — well,  there  was 
a  momentary  blotting  out  of  all  else  for  him  save  this 
tenacious  resolution  to  combat  his  weakness. 

Suddenly  he  stopped  in  his  nervous  promenade  before 
the  small  shaving  -  mirror  hanging  beside  the  blurred 
window,  blinked  his  magnificent  gray  eyes  three  or  four 
times  as  he  looked  at  his  thin,  hard  face,  and  with  un- 
utterable rage  muttered  to  his  own  image,  "  Salaud  Va!" 

There  he  stood  with  raised  fist,  as  if  about  to  annihi- 
late his  reflection  in  a  shiver  of  broken  glass ;  then  slowly 
he  let  his  hand  fall  to  his  side,  and  became  plunged  in  a 
sort  of  horrified  wonderment. 

Even  to  this  man,  whose  life  for  years  had  scarcely 
ever  run  through  one  month  without  getting  entangled 
in  some  difficult  knot  or  other,  the  present  horror  of  the 
situation  gave  an  unconquerable  shock.  Again  he  ex- 
perienced the  nameless  terror  from  which  he  had  suffered 
after  poor  Teuss's  death,  but  in  an  aggravated  form, 
for  then  his  health  had  still  been  fairly  good,  his  strength 
not  greatly  impaired,  while  now  he  felt  ill  and  like  one 
definitely  wrecked  and  floating  on  a  yielding  spar  upon 
an  ocean  of  black  despair. 

What  would  come  next,  he  asked  himself,  as  sitting  on 
the  narrow  window-sill  he  vaguely  watched  the  wreaths  of 
soot-tainted  fog  drift  over  the  wet  roofs.  Forty  feet  below, 
the  tortuous,  busy,  crowded  streets  twisted  and  wriggled 
through  slime  and  gloom,  filled  to  overflowing  with  men 
hurrying  home  from  their  offices,  and  racing  to  reach  the 
elevated  railroad  stations  before  the  great  rush,  if  possi- 
ble. From  lower  yet  down-town  the  awful  crowds 
elbowed  and  pushed  their  way  like  a  horde  of  ravenous 

528 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

wolves.  Old  and  young,  well  and  badly  dressed  boys, 
girls,  women,  and  men,  poor  and  rich,  speaking  every 
language  under  heaven,  jostling,  grumbling,  belated, 
hurried  along  amid  the  roar  of  continual  traffic,  the 
whistling  of  trains  and  ferry-boats,  the  stamping  and 
grunting  of  the  huge  dray  horses  dragging  behind  them 
pyramids  of  barrels,  rolls  of  leather,  or  of  printing-paper 
and  other  merchandise  of  a  more  or  less  unsavory  kind 
through  the  fierce  entanglement  of  electric  cars,  auto- 
mobiles, cabs  and  carts,  in  this  ghastly  labyrinth. 

A  deep  abhorrence  of  his  present  fearful  existence  rose 
up  in  him  like  some  nauseating  tide  of  mud,  and  for  a 
moment  he  longed  to  throw  himself  from  that  dizzy 
window-sill  upon  which  he  sat,  so  as  to  end  the  struggle 
now,  immediately,  once  and  for  all,  down  there  beneath 
the  stamping  hoofs  and  crunching  wheels. 

But  no!  A  Marquis  de  Kergoat  does  not  yield  to  the 
supreme  and  cowardly  temptation  of  suicide.  There  was 
no  help  for  it,  he  must  live  on  for  the  present,  live  on  as 
best  he  could — or  as  evilly,  he  reflected,  with  his  grim,  heart- 
rending little  sneer — until  Gaidik  rescued  him — for  it  had 
come  to  that  at  last,  he  must  write  her  the  shameful  truth. 

A  wave  of  furious  disgust  rose  within  him,  and  with  a 
curse  he  jumped  up  and  groped  his  way  through  the  now 
almost  absolutely  dark  room  to  a  twisted  gas-bracket  to 
which  he  applied  a  match.  As  he  did  so  his  feet  came  in 
contact  with  the  once  natty  steamer  trunk  which  had  fol- 
lowed him  in  all  his  descending  peregrinations,  and  where 
he  kept  the  wreck  of  his  sumptuous  wardrobe  and  his  few 
last  souvenirs.  It  was  now  very  much  battered,  but  the 
lock  was  a  good  one  and  had  defied  the  deft  and  practised 
hands  of  the  "hotel"  servants — this  word  " hotel"  always 
made  him  laugh  in  connection  with  the  wretched  estab- 
lishment he  lived  in. 

529 


THE   TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

Stooping  swiftly,  he  drew  a  key  from  his  pocket,  and 
kneeling  on  the  floor  flung  back  the  heavy  lid.  Impa- 
tiently he  threw  aside  the  upper  tray,  and  bent  over 
the  curious  collection  of  objects  jumbled  together  below 
it.  A  withered  branch  of  holly,  a  broken  amber  cigar- 
holder,  half  a  dozen  pocket-books  and  card-cases,  from 
which  silver  and  gold  crests  and  coronets  had  been  ruth- 
lessly torn,  a  gay  cerise-silk  cowboy  handkerchief,  some 
spurs  and  curb-chains  hopelessly  entangled,  a  beautiful 
writing-case  exquisitely  embroidered  by  Gaidik's  hands, 
but  frayed  and  torn,  were  emptied  out,  together  with 
boots,  shoes,  and  slippers,  all  much  the  worse  for  wear, 
riding-trousers,  pierced  by  long  usage  even  through  the 
reinforcing  leather,  and  a  mass  of  poor,  dilapidated  ties 
once  perfect  in  make  and  color. 

Quite  at  the  bottom  of  the  trunk  lay  an  ungainly 
bundle  wrapped  in  brown  paper,  loosely  tied  with  a  string, 
and  a  broad  pasteboard  box;  these  he  took  and  flung 
upon  the  rickety  table,  the  hideous  red-and-yellow  cover 
of  which  was  to  him  a  constant  eyesore  and  nightmare. 
Then,  still  surrounded  by  the  litter  of  heterogeneous  ar- 
ticles, rising  like  a  tide  about  his  feet,  he  sat  down  on  a 
dangerously  shaky  chair,  and,  drawing  the  table  towards 
him,  opened  the  pasteboard  box  with  slightly  unsteady 
hands. 

Within,  photographs  were  tightly  packed,  pictures  of 
friends  long  lost  sight  of,  of  women  who  had  loved 
him,  of  distinguished  men,  diplomats,  soldiers,  sailors 
with  whom  he  had  consorted  —  nay,  several  large-sized 
ones,  bearing  the  autographs  of  Sovereigns  with  whom 
he  had  been  persona  gratissima,  and  which  would  have 
fetched  a  high  price  in  the  American  society  market 
— but,  thank  Heaven  he  had  not  come  to  that  yet! 
His  face  became  more  and  more  clouded  as  he  fingered 

530 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

them,  and  bitter  thoughts  of  wrongs  done  to  him,  of 
numberless  injustices  and  cruel  sorrows  and  disappoint- 
ments, surged  up  in  his  mind,  his  nostrils  dilating,  his 
upper  lip  contracting  until  his  even,  white  teeth  became 
visible. 

For  several  minutes  more  he  turned  the  pictures  quick- 
ly over,  his  hands  grasping  and  relinquishing  them  ner- 
vously, until  he  came  upon  a  square  portfolio  of  royal  blue 
leather  clasped  with  exquisitely  wrought  silver  Fleur  de 
Lys — this  was  intact,  and  he  held  it  moodily,  gazing  at 
its  untarnished  splendor  amid  ail  those  ruins,  with  a  sort 
of  mocking  surprise.  Outside,  rain,  mixed  with  sleet  and 
snow,  had  begun  to  fall  heavily,  and  the  big  drops  pat- 
tering on  the  window-sill  made  a  mournful  accompani- 
ment to  his  thoughts. 

At  last,  with  a  curious,  feverish  agitation,  he  unfast- 
ened the  catch,  and  there  before  him  stood  revealed 
Gaidik,  in  Court  dress,  in  riding-habit,  in  hunting-cos- 
tume, in  ordinary  street  attire,  in  profile,  full-face,  three- 
quarters,  but  always  "his"  little  Gaidik,  the  dear  "com- 
rade" of  childhood  days,  the  tender  and  loyal  sym- 
pathizer of  all  his  sorrows,  the  dispenser  of  his  few  real 
joys. 

Why  had  he  not  listened  to  her?  Why,  at  least,  had 
he  not  long  ere  this  turned  to  her  for  help — and  as  of  old 
for  comfort  and  consolation  ?  Ah,  yes,  he  had  indeed 
been  a  wicked,  wicked  fool!  And  softly  closing  the  port- 
folio he  reached  out  for  his  writing-case,  eager  not  to 
lose  another  minute  before  retrieving  this  folly  of  pride 
and  obstinacy  which  so  long  had  kept  him  silent.  As 
he  feverishly  searched  for  pen  and  note-paper,  a  handful 
of  vari-colored  pawn-tickets  fluttered  to  the  ground,  and 
impatiently  he  bent  to  pick  them  up,  glancing  involun- 
tarily at  each  individual  one  as  he  did  so.  There  was, 

531 


THE    TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

indeed,  a  very  complete  collection  there,  ranging  from  the 
earlier  ones  that  testified  to  the  remarkably  dispropor- 
tionate sums  loaned  upon  the  black  pearl  studs  Gaidik  had 
given  him  after  his  return  from  Pernambuco,  the  Bre'guet 
repeater  and  matchless  engraved  sapphire  seal-ring — his 
mother's  presents  on  his  twenty-first  birthday — and  many 
other  costly  articles  of  a  similar  nature — to  the  pitiful 
reminders  of  more  recent  moments  when  he  had  shame- 
facedly pledged  every  object  he  possibly  could  do  with- 
out, even  much-worn  wearing  apparel,  pipes,  boots,  and 
riding-gear. 

With  an  impatient  sigh  he  threw  the  lot  into  the  open 
trunk,  and  drawing  his  chair  to  the  table,  once  more 
buckled  down  to  the  task  of  writing  the  most  painful  and 
humiliating  letter  he  had  ever  penned.  Page  after  page 
he  wrote,  never  hesitating,  hardly  ever  raising  his  eyes 
from  the  paper,  and  when  he  at  last  stopped,  he  shook 
the  loose  leaves  together  and  counted  them — there  were 
ten  —  with  a  feeling  of  supreme  astonishment  at  the 
facility  with  which  this  confession,  so  long  dreaded,  had 
been  accomplished;  then  he  rose  from  his  seat,  and, 
snatching  up  his  hat  and  thin,  spring  overcoat  —  the 
only  one  he  now  possessed — hurried  off  to  the  post-office, 
dreading  to  find  it  already  closed. 

At  a  run  he  traversed  the  distance  separating  him  from 
Broadway,  but,  glancing  at  the  big  City  Hall  clock, 
slackened  his  pace,  for  it  was  still  much  earlier  than  he 
had  imagined  —  indeed,  so  absorbed  and  full -hearted 
had  he  been  while  writing  that  he  had  performed,  with- 
out being  aware  of  it,  a  most  surprising  literary  feat 
in  record  time,  describing  the  events  of  years  in  a  frank, 
concise,  nay,  a  truly  masterly  fashion,  which  no  knight 
of  the  pen,  even  the  ablest  and  most  concise,  could 
have  hoped  to  excel.  "//  faut  avoir  vecu  ce  que  Von 

S3* 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

ecritV  the  greatest  of  French  writers  has  truthfully 
said. 

Moved  by  an  impulse  which  he  himself  could  not  have 
explained,  Loic,  before  posting  the  bulky  envelope  al- 
ready half-drawn  from  his  pocket,  turned  towards  the 
paste  -  restante  window,  not  that  he  had  great  hopes  of 
finding  anything  there,  but  just  because  it  seemed  the 
thing  that  should  first  be  attended  to,  and  to  his  extreme 
surprise  two  letters  were  thrown  before  him  on  the  nar- 
row ledge,  the  uppermost  one  from  Gaidik,  the  second — 
were  his  eyes  playing  him  a  trick,  or  was  the  second 
really  from  Rose? 

Trembling  from  head  to  foot,  he  sought  a  deserted  cor- 
ner beneath  an  electric  globe  and  tore  it  open  with  fin- 
gers which  had  suddenly  turned  ice-cold.  The  pointed 
characters  of  the  well-known  writing  traced  as  ever  in 
violet  ink  fairly  danced  before  him,  and  it  was  only  by 
using  all  that  remained  of  his  self-control  that  he  could 
at  last  force  himself  to  master  the  faintness  insidiously 
creeping  over  him — nay,  even  when  he  had  read  the  short 
note  four  times  over  did  he  grasp  anything  further  than 
the  blissful  fact  that  Kikette  was  well,  and  that  should 
he,  Loic,  consent  to  send  to  a  given  initialled  address  a 
solemn  promise  not  to  attempt  to  detain  the  child,  she 
would  be  allowed  to  come  and  spend  Christmas  Eve 
with  him,  under  safe  escort — this  heavily  underscored. 

What  mattered  to  the  young  father,  shaking  there 
beneath  the  pulsating  electric  light  as  if  suddenly  stricken 
with  ague,  whether  Rose  had  been  actuated  by  tardy 
remorse,  or  whether — as  was  really  the  case — dire  neces- 
sity was  the  true  cause  of  this  first  step  towards  a  rap- 
prochement. In  days  gone  by  he  might  have  puzzled, 
might  have  very  likely  reflected  that  this  offer  was  the 
result  of  disappointment  with  a  self -selected  way  of  life, 

533 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

perhaps  of  the  impossibility  of  continuing  this  very  mode 
of  existence;  but  now  all  Loic  thought  of  was  that  in 
less  than  a  week  he  would  again  hold  his  little  Kikette 
close  to  his  heart — that  heart  beating  just  now,  as  it  often 
had  of  late,  so  violently  and  irregularly  against  his  ribs! 
This  despaired  of  joy  fairly  suffocated  him,  and  drawing 
his  handkerchief  from  his  pocket  he  wiped  the  perspira- 
tion from  his  forehead  and  the  palms  of  his  hands  before 
opening  the  second  letter. 

"Ah,  my  little  Gaid!"  he  whispered,  as  a  check  flut- 
tered from  it  to  his  feet.  "So  it  is  again  you  who  will 
make  it  possible  for  me  to  treat  Kikette  worthily!"  And 
with  a  little  gasp,  which  was  almost  a  sob,  he  tore  out  of 
the  post-office  and  home  beneath  the  now  heavily  falling 
snow,  without  even  being  conscious  that  he  had  eaten 
nothing  since  morning  and  was  utterly  played  out. 


CHAPTER   XXVI 

Dark  night!  dark  night!  and  the  clouds  hang  low, 
The  blackness  lights  with  the  flashing  foam, 
And  a  broken  spar  that  heaveth  slow 
In  the  dead  waves,  drifting  home. 
Oh  well  the  day  would  reveal  indeed 
The  crust  of  shell  and  the  trail  of  weed, 
The  scar   and  seam  of  the  ebb  and  flow 
Since  a  ship  went  down  in  the  long  ago! 
Oh!  mourn  that  lip -bitten  agony, 
The  last  grim  swirl  of  the  grisly  sea! 
And  moan  with  the  winds  of  the  headland  height 
And  the  surfless  sands, 

Dark  night!  The  Voyage — M.  M. 

THE  deep-red  curtains  were  drawn  carefully  over  the 
windows;  in  the  open  fireplace  several  logs  crackled 
gayly;  and  beneath  the  four  lighted  gas-jets  of  a  pass- 
ably tasteful  little  chandelier,  Loic  stood  at  the  small 
centre  -  table  busily  engaged  in  decorating  a  diminutive 
Christmas-tree,  proudly  rising  from  a  square,  green  china 
box. 

None  would  have  known  him  again  for  the  haggard, 
sombre,  miserable  man  who  had  entered  the  General  Post- 
office  five  days  before.  There  was  now  a  brightness  in 
his  eyes  and  a  color  in  his  face  which  transformed  him 
completely,  and  made  him  almost  again  the  Loic  of  the 
past,  and  as  he  worked  he  actually  sang  a  gay  little 
Breton  sailor  song,  the  refrain  of  which  rhymed  remark- 
ably well  with  his  thoughts: 

535 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

"  Vive,  vive,  vive  la  Bretagne! 
Vivent,  vivent,  vivent  les  Bretons  I 
Comprenan  Ket 

Ar  Gallek: 
Preguet,  preguet 

Brezonnek  ! 
Vive  la  Br6tagne — Vivent  les  Bretons!" 

He  had  put  his  time  and  money  to  good  use  since  then ; 
beginning  early  the  next  morning  by  quitting  his  dismal 
quarters  at  the  Raines-law  hotel,  and  hiring  for  a  month — 
paid  in  advance — the  first-floor  front  rooms  and  bath  of  a 
quiet  little  house  in  an  up -town  side  street  owned  by  a 
worthy  elderly  widow,  who  kept  but  a  few  select  lodgers 
to  eke  out  her  slender  income.  He  then  had  proceeded 
to  add  some  long-needed  necessaries  to  his  attire,  and 
with  a  heart  rendered  light  as  a  feather  by  hope  and 
happy  anticipation,  had  gone  on  a  grand  shopping  ex- 
pedition with  a  view  to  preparing  more  than  one  delicious 
surprise  for  his  little  Kikette. 

How  greatly  he  had  enjoyed  this  none  but  a  poor 
devil  who  has  been  weaned  from  every  joy,  even  the 
smallest,  for  many  dreary  months  could  realize,  and 
with  characteristic  self  -  f  orgetfulness  and  generosity  he 
had  spent  quite  a  little  fortune  on  choice  toys  and  dainty 
refreshments,  not  to  forget  the  tiny  Christmas-tree  and 
its  various  luxurious  appurtenances,  which  had  cost  him 
endless  thought  and  cogitation. 

Holding  a  silver-clad  angel  in  one  upraised  hand,  he 
now  stepped  back  to  judge  of  the  best  nook  wherein 
to  enthrone  this  glorious  little  personage  among  the  clean- 
smelling,  crisp  branches]which  already  bent  beneath  their 
glittering  load  of  tinsel  trifles  and  rose-hued  candles. 

"That's  it!"  he  murmured,  with  a  laugh,  as  he  tri- 
umphantly set  it  astride  a  fuzzy  twig  immediately  above 
the  hoary  head  of  a  richly  fur-wrapped  Santa  Claus. 

536 


THE    TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

"Couldn't  be  better!"     And  again  the  refrain  of  his  song 
filled  the  festive  little  room: 

Vive!  vive  la  Bretagne — Vivent  les  Bretons! 

"Lor',  Sir!"  exclaimed  his  landlady,  who  had  twice 
knocked  without  being  heard,  and  had  just  pushed  open 
the  door.  "Lor,'  Sir,  but  you  did  make  the  place  look 
purty !  How  did  you  manage  to  fix  up  all  those  garlands 
of  holly  and  mistletoe  around  the  ceiling  in  so  little 
time?"' 

Loic  turned  quickly  on  his  heel.  "Oh,  is  that  you, 
Mrs.  Cramp  ?  I  was  just  going  to  run  down  and  interview 
you  about  the  chocolate  you  promised  to  be  so  kind  as 
to  make  for  my  little  girl!  You  know  she'll  be  here  in 
less  than  an  hour  now,  and  it's  such  beastly  weather  that 
she'll  need  something  warm  to  drink  at  once!" 

"  To  be  sure,  Sir!  To  be  sure!"  the  good  lady  acquiesced. 
"But  you  should  take  something  comforting  yourself; 
you  must  be  fagged  out  working  like  that  since  early 
morning.  I'm  sure  you  didn't  even  trouble  to  go  out 
and  get  yourself  a  bit  of  lunch?" 

"To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  did  forget,"  Loic  said,  laugh- 
ing, as  if  mentioning  the  best  of  jokes.  "But  come  here, 
Mrs.  Cramp,  I  want  to  show  you  this  little  monkey  dan- 
cing on  his  barrel-organ.  Isn't  that  the  funniest  thing  you 
ever  saw?"  And  with  eager  hands  he  took  from  its  tis- 
sue-paper wrappings  a  mechanical  toy,  the  price  of  which 
would  have  kept  him  in  comfort  for  many  a  day  only  a 
short  week  before,  and  which  made  the  honest  Mrs. 
Cramp  almost  weep  with  admiration.  Every  present 
was  displayed  separately  to  her,  and  it  was  only  when 
she  had  tasted  the  bonbons  and  had  smacked  her  lips 
over  a  few  of  the  hot-house  grapes  lying  in  readiness  on 
a  prettily  decked  side-table  that  he  at  last  consented  to 

35  537 


THE    TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

let  her  bustle  down-stairs  again  to  make  him  what  she 
called  ' '  a  strong  cup  of  coffee  and  a  couple  of  nice,  thin 
slices  of  buttered  toast,"  which  dainties  she  brought  up 
and  forced  him  to  partake  of  instantly  under  her  ma- 
ternal supervision. 

Snow  was  falling  thickly  all  over  New  York,  decking 
it  in  a  gleaming  mantle  of  exquisite  whiteness  for  the 
coming  holidays;  and  as  Loic,  left  alone  once  more  to  the 
enraptured  contemplation  of  his  elaborate  preparations, 
peeped  between  the  window  -  curtains  to  watch  for  his 
little  Kikette's  approach,  he  wondered  whether  in  all 
that  big,  overgrown,  busy  city  there  existed  just  then  one 
more  joyful  papa  than  himself. 

Soon,  however,  a  little  impatience  began  to  taint  his 
light-hear tedness.  The  hour  appointed  was  passed  by 
fully  fifteen  minutes,  and,  restlessly  snatching  up  his 
cap,  he  ran  down  to  the  f/ont-door,  for  fear  that  Kikette's 
"reliable  escort"  might  in  the  gathering  gloom  miss  the 
house.  For  a  long  time  he  stood  on  the  fast-whitening 
steps,  darting  alert  glances  from  one  end  of  the  street  to 
the  other,  and  finally,  after  a  swift  run  to  his  rooms  to 
see  whether  everything  was  still  in  the  same  exquisite 
order — the  chocolate  steaming  by  the  fire  and  the  paper 
spills  wherewith  to  light  the  candles  undisturbed — he  took 
to  pacing  up  and  down  from  one  avenue  to  the  other  in 
intolerable  restlessness,  beneath  the  densely  falling  flakes, 
conjuring  up  in  his  excited  mind  all  the  catastrophies 
which  might  cause  so  unaccountable  a  delay. 

An  hour  went  by,  then  another,  but  still  no  Kikette, 
and,  nearly  beside  himself  with  anxiety,  Loic  retraced  his 
steps  for  the  last  time  and  sought  his  quarters  with  the 
ridiculous  hope  that  the  child  might  perhaps  have  slipped 
by  him  in  the  darkness  and  that  she  was  even  now  wait- 
ing for  him  up  there. 

538 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

He  took  the  stairs  in  four  bounds,  and  impatiently 
pushed  the  door  open,  to  be  greeted,  of  course,  but  by 
fresh  disappointment,  and,  with  a  hopeless  glance  of 
misery  at  the  pretty  array,  the  delicate  gouter,  the 
brilliant  fir-tree  standing,  as  it  were,  sentry-like  on  the 
threshold  of  so  much  promised  joy,  he  sat  wearily  down 
for  a  moment. 

He  had  hardly  done  so  when  a  loud  tap  made  him 
bound  to  his  feet,  glowing  with  hope  again,  to  be  con- 
fronted in  the  doorway  by  Mrs.  Cramp's  Hibernian 
slavey,  holding  a  letter  in  her  hand.  "This  is  just  afther 
being  left  by  a  man  for  ye,"  she  said,  devouring  the 
magnificences  around  her  with  eyes  opened  to  their  utter- 
most extent. 

"Is  he  waiting?"  asked  Loic,  through  parched  lips. 

"No,  Sor,  he  runned  away  like  a  thafe,"  was  the  pleas- 
ing answer,  and,  with  an  idiotic,  nerve  -  splitting  laugh, 
she  was  gone. 

"Having  learned  how  low  you  have  fallen,"  wrote 
Kikette's  mother,  "I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  put  off 
sending  my  child  to  see  you  until  your  ways  of  life  are 
different.  Some  friends  of  mine  saw  you  disgustingly 
drunk  several  times,  so  there's  no  use  in  denying  it.  I 
cannot  expose  Kikette  to  such  a  revolting  spectacle. 
Besides  which  I  have  made  up  with  my  present  employer 
the  quarrel  that  induced  me,  in  a  moment  of  anger,  to 
write  you  the  other  day,  so  we  will  remain  as  we  are  for 
a  little  longer,  if  you  don't  mind." 

Calmly,  quietly,  Loic  folded  the  paper,  thrust  it  into 
his  pocket,  and,  crossing  over  to  the  fire,  mechanically 
removed  the  chocolate  from  its  immediate  vicinity.  In 
the  same  almost  automatic  fashion  he  closed  the  bonbon 
boxes,  swept  the  paper  spills  into  the  grate  and  the  neatly 
tied-up  gifts  onto  the  sofa,  then  he  put  on  his  thin  coat 

539 


THE   TRIDENT   AND    THE    NET 

and  hat,  carefully  brushing  them  both  first,  and,  stand- 
ing in  the  middle  of  the  room,  one  hand  on  the  catch  of 
the  last  remaining  gas-jet,  he  said,  aloud,  while  turning 
it  out,  "And  now  I'm  going  to  justify  my  reputation 
and  get  "disgustingly"  drunk." 

Four  days  of  such  carousing  as  he  had  never  even 
dreamed  of  before  left  Loic  a  physical  as  well  as  a  financial 
wreck,  and,  when  he  at  last  returned  to  his  rooms,  his 
landlady  cried  out  at  the  mere  sight  of  him. 

"For  the  Lord's  good  sake,  Mr.  Kergoat,  what  have 
you  done  to  yourself?"  she  exclaimed,  her  chubby  face 
puckered  up  with  alarm.  "It's  too  bad.  You  must  go 
to  bed,  and  that  at  once,  too,"  she  continued,  preceding 
him  briskly  up  the  stairs  and  speaking  in  her  maternal, 
fussy  way,  but  he  merely  nodded  his  head,  and,  while  she 
was  down-stairs  "after  a  cup  of  scalding  hot  tea,  to  put 
life  into  you,"  as  she  explained,  he  hastily  gathered  a 
few  last  remaining  objects  of  slight  but  "pawnable" 
value  into  a  hand-bag  and  noiselessly  slipped  away  again 
into  the  night. 

He  was  frightfully  shaky,  and  the  prolonged  whistle  of 
an  elevated  train,  screeching  suddenly  above  his  head, 
made  him  jump  almost  out  of  his  boots ;  also,  it  seemed  to 
his  weakened  eyes  as  if  threatening  shadows  dodged  his 
steps,  stretching  menacing  arms  towards  him  from  every 
sombre  nook  all  the  way  to  the  Bowery,  where  at  last  he 
arrived,  bathed  in  perspiration,  spite  of  the  weather's 
truly  arctic  temper. 

"Only  two  tollars  dis  dime,"  the  Jew  said,  contemptu- 
ously pushing  to  one  side,  with  repulsively  dirty  fingers, 
the  objects  Loic  had  silently  placed  on  the  counter,  but, 
raising  his  red-rimmed  eyes  to  the  set,  desperate  face  be- 
fore him,  he  added,  craftily  measuring  the  broad  shoul- 
ders of  his  customer:  "If  you  should  habben  to  know 

540 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

somepody  to  vatch  my  goots  turing  the  rest  of  de 
holitays,  I  vould  villingly  bay  him  dat  sum  for  efery 
night.  I  haf  tiamonds  of  crate  value  here,  and  I  am 
not  quiet  apout  them  chust  now,  mine  vriend."  He 
had  had  dealings  with  Loic  before,  and  accorded  him 
a  respect  which  was  partly  the  result  of  a  really  keen 
insight  into  human  nature  and  partly  due  to  the  large 
profits  he  had  made  on  earlier  and  far  more  important 
transactions. 

"All  right,"  Loic  said,  curtly,  pocketing  the  two  filthy 
greenbacks.  "  When  do  you  wish  me  to  begin  ?" 

"  At  vunce,  mine  goot  vriend — at  vunce.  I  am  chust 
going  to  glose  up,  and  if  you  vill  badrol  bevoor  my  vin- 
dows  I  vill  bay  you  at  seven  o'clock  do-morrow  morning 
ven  I  gome." 

Those  were  sinister  nights  in  the  broad,  deserted,  foul- 
smelling  thoroughfare,  where  the  bitter  winter  blasts 
chased  one  another  from  doorway  to  doorway,  while 
on  their  whistling  course  down  side  streets  towards 
the  fog-shrouded,  ice-laden  waters  of  the  river;  the 
weather  was  relentless  in  its  cruelty,  snow  giving  place  to 
sleet  and  sleet  to  squalls  of  freezing  rain,  with  tireless 
perseverance,  and  Loic,  keeping  his  weary  vigils  from 
midnight  to  seven,  made  the  acquaintance  of  more  hor- 
rors than  even  he  had  ever  suspected  the  world  could 
encompass. 

One  thought  alone  sustained  him.  He  had,  late  on 
Christmas  Eve,  posted  the  letter  to  Gaidik  held  back 
until  Kikette's  promised  visit  should  show  him  how  the 
land  would  lie  in  the  future — forgetting,  unfortunately, 
in  the  turmoil  of  the  moment,  that  it  did  not  con- 
tain his  new  address — and  all  he  now  desired  was  to 
keep  body  and  soul  together  until  his  sister  rescued  him. 
His  pride  was  so  utterly  broken  that  he  barely  resented 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

his  present  mode  of  earning  enough  to  accomplish  that 
aim;  and  yet  when,  on  New-Year's  Eve,  he  arrived  at 
his  post,  through  streets  crowded  with  merrymakers,  ex- 
asperatingly  blowing  on  tin  trumpets,  and  had  dutifully 
received  the  Jew's  instructions  to  "  Be  very  alerd,  mine  lat, 
on  agound  of  de  toughs,"  his  eyes  puckered  queerly  as 
he  murmured  to  himself,  swinging  on  his  heel  to  com- 
mence his  endless  promenade  in  the  teeth  of  a  cutting 
northeaster:  "Pretty  work  for — my — father's  son  to  do! 
So  ennobling!  So  grand!  So  worthy!"  And  the  wind 
having  extinguished  his  cigarette,  he  thrust  his  hands 
deep  into  his  pockets,  and,  turning  up  his  threadbare, 
flimsy  collar,  resumed  his  round. 

Slowly  the  ice-shod  hours  wore  on,  desperately,  slowly, 
especially  as  long  as  the  turmoil  inherent  to  December 
3ist  in  New  York  lasted ;  and  when  at  length  the  tin-horn 
blowers  had  departed,  leaving  the  snow  and  a  few  warmly 
coated  policemen — who  nodded  sympathetically  to  Loic 
now  and  again — in  sole  possession  of  the  desolate  Bowery, 
the  latter  was  forced  to  accelerate  his  steps  in  order  not 
to  literally  freeze  alive. 

Towards  four  o'clock  he  paused  for  a  few  moments, 
thoroughly  exhausted,  in  a  deep  doorway,  to  recover  his 
breath,  for  the  wind  cut  like  razor-blades,  and  his  chest 
hurt  him  surprisingly  with  every  inhalation  of  the  deadly 
atmosphere.  By  the  light  of  a  forlorn  street-lamp  he 
noticed  a  poor,  little,  half -frozen  sparrow,  who,  like 
himself,  had  sought  shelter  in  that  partially  screened 
corner,  and  who,  with  lamentably  flurried  feathers,  cow- 
ered in  its  farthest  angle.  Stooping  quickly,  Loic  gen- 
tly lifted  the  shivering  bird  from  the  ground,  and,  hold- 
ing him  between  his  numbed  fingers,  looked  curiously 
at  him. 

"We  are  incorrigible  rowdies,  you  and  I — eh,  little 

542 


THE   TRIDENT   AND   THE    NET 

chap?"  he  murmured  softly,  standing  slightly  twisted 
to  one  side  and  patting  the  ruffled  wings  with  one  finger. 
"Hopeless  scamps,  both  of  us;  still,  it  is  not  right  that  we 
should  be  perishing  with  hunger  and  cold  like  this,  is  it  ?" 
The  bright,  jetty,  twinkling  eyes  seemed  to  wink  ac- 
quiescence and  implore  assistance  at  one  and  the  same 
time  so  drolly  that  with  a  short,  shamefaced  laugh  Loic 
slipped  the  pitiful  mite  within  his  waistcoat — where,  to 
be  truthful,  but  little  warmth  was  to  be  found,  alas! — 
then,  with  a  more  cheery  "And  now  let's  patrol  some 
more,"  he  faced  the  weather  with  renewed  courage. 

At  that  very  moment  Rose  was  romping  with  a  party 
of  Susannah  Caulfield's  paying  guests  to  the  accom- 
paniment of  a  cracked  piano  and  a  weezy  accordion, 
the  bad  feeling  between  her  and  her  simple-minded 
employer  a  thing  of  the  past,  and  her  own  confidence  in 
the  future  wholly  restored.  She  had  often  put  her  one 
talent  to  excellent  use  in  convincing  cleverer  people  than 
poor  Susannah  of  the  integrity  of  her  cause  against  Loic 
— people  who  should  have  known  better,  and  who  believed 
her  in  spite  of  themselves — perchance  a  great  actress  had, 
after  all,  been  lost  in  her;  and,  gayly  relying  upon  the 
fruition  of  the  second  dose  of  punishment  she  had  admin- 
istered to  Loic,  she  vaguely  determined — being  in  a  par- 
ticularly jovial  mood — to  write  him  again  in  a  little 
while — yes,  even  to  let  him  see  Kikette,  if  he  deserved 
it — never  dreaming  that  this  time  she  had  perchance 
drawn  the  net  so  tightly  that  he  might  never  get  free 
from  its  throttling  meshes  again. 

Slowly  the  night  wore  on,  and  just  as  Loic  was  going  to 
quit  his  beat  in  search  of  a  few  hours  of  sorely  needed 
rest,  a  fluttering  at  his  breast  reminded  him  of  his  feath- 
ered prote'ge'.  Slipping  his  hand  within  his  waistcoat, 
he  produced  the  captive  and  tossed  him  into  the  slightly 

543 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

thawing  air.  With  a  sharp  little  cry,  the  sparrow  flew 
to  a  telegraph  wire  overhead,  and  thence  looked  downward 
at  his  rescuer  in  an  alert  and  independent  fashion,  shak- 
ing his  cramped  wings,  puffing  out  his  chest,  and  flirting 
his  absurd  tail  from  side  to  side. 

"Is  that  how  you  say  'Thank  you'?"  Loic  remarked 
from  the  sidewalk  below.  "You're  very  human — which 
means  that,  after  all,  you're  not  more  ungrateful  than 
other  friends  that  I've  obliged.  Good-bye,  little  chap," 
and,  with  an  amused  nod  and  a  parting  wave  of  the 
hand,  he  took  his  way  through  the  awakening  streets 
to  his  lonely  lodging. 

On  returning  to  his  rooms  upon  the  last  day  when  his 
services  as  watchman  were  required,  the  holidays  being 
over,  Loic  heaved  a  deep  sigh  of  relief,  for  the  effect  of 
the  hardships  undergone  during  those  freezing  nights 
was  beginning  to  get  the  better  of  his  strength  of  en- 
durance. 

He  awoke  after  his  first  long  sleep  with  a  feeling  of 
lassitude  positively  oppressive  in  its  intensity,  and  a  fear- 
ful headache  pressing  the  back  of  his  eyes  like  hot  lead. 
His  bath  made  him  shiver,  and  he  vainly  attempted  to 
swallow  the  coffee  which  motherly  Mrs.  Cramp  insisted 
upon  making  for  him.  She  was  not  satisfied  with  her 
interesting  lodger,  was  Mrs.  Cramp ;  he  was  a  sore  puzzle 
to  her,  a  puzzle  she  tried  quite  uselessly  to  solve;  but  a 
warm  corner  of  her  childless  heart  had  opened  widely  to 
him,  and  it  was  with  genuine  concern  that,  gazing  intent- 
ly at  the  curious,  drawn  look  about  his  eyes  late  in  the 
afternoon,  she  said,  stoutly: 

"You  are  ill,  Mr.  Kergoat,  and  you  must  not  on  any 
account  go  out  again.  Indeed,  you  should  let  me  send 
for  a  doctor  at  once." 

A  doctor!  Loic  smiled  a  little  wanly.  Five  dollars 

544 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

capital  do  not  encourage  one  to  appeal  to  the  medical 
profession,  and,  as  for  the  dispensary  or  hospital,  he  was 
resolved  not  to  go  there  again.  He  had  been  treated 
kindly  during  his  attack  of  grippe,  but  the  dismalness  of 
the  thing  gave  him  the  horrors,  and  so,  shaking  his  head, 
he  merely  replied:  "I  do  feel  a  trifle  queer,  but  it's  only 
fatigue,  and  I'll  be  all  right  in  a  day  or  two,  Mrs.  Cramp. 
Still,  I  think  I'll  take  your  advice  and  stay  at  home." 

Heavy-eyed  and  clogged  of  brain,  he  threw  himself  all 
of  a  heap  on  the  small  sofa  as  soon  as  she  had  reluctantly 
gone,  and  lay  there,  witn  eyes  closed,  wondering  why  his 
chest  felt  so  leathery  inside  and  why  there  was  so  strangely 
uncontrollable  a  twitching  in  all  the  muscles  of  his  legs. 
The  room  seemed  insufferably  hot,  too;  but  when  he  pain- 
fully rose  and  opened  a  window  his  teeth  began  to  chat- 
ter, and,  having  closed  it  again  with  an  effort,  he  went 
back  to  his  sofa  and  fell  into  so  heavy  a  sleep  that  Mrs. 
Cramp  had  to  shake  him  into  consciousness  when,  tow- 
ards night,  taking  the  law  into  her  own  hands,  she  re- 
appeared with  the  doctor  she  had  sent  for  in  her  growing 
anxiety.  This  professional  gentleman  stopped  suddenly 
in  the  middle  of  a  slightly  pompous  sentence,  when  he 
glanced  at  the  thermometer  he  had  just  removed  from 
his  patient's  mouth  and  saw  what  was  recorded  on  it, 
and  although  Loic  noticed  the  incident  and  guessed  its 
cause,  he  was  by  now  far  too  ill  to  care  much  about  it. 
Indeed,  he  let  himself  be  helped  to  bed  with  an  apathy 
so  unlike  his  brisk,  hopeful  self  that  even  Mrs.  Cramp, 
who  had  known  him  only  for  so  short  a  time,  shook  her 
head  despondently. 

' 'What  is  the  matter  with  him?"  she  asked  of  the  doc- 
tor, as  soon  as  she  had  him  alone  in  the  hall. 

"I  don't  know,"  he  replied,  hesitatingly.  "It  may  be 
a  mere  heavy  cold,  but  his  temperature  is  so  high  that  I 

545 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

am  inclined  to  think  it  influenza;  he  looks  dissipated,  too 
— drinks  hard,  I  have  no  doubt.  Well,  if  he  is  no  better, 
you  can  send  for  me  in  a  day  or  two."  And  scenting  but 
little  glory  and  less  money  in  the  case  of  so  obscure  and 
probably  impoverished  a  person,  the  doctor  took  his 
departure  with  inimitable  alacrity;  but  next  day  Mrs. 
Cramp  started  back  appalled  when  a  lividly  blue  face, 
bedewed  with  perspiration,  drawn  and  terribly  angular, 
confronted  her  upon  the  pillows  as  she  entered  the 
room. 

"Mercy  on  us!"  she  exclaimed,  bending  towards  him. 
"You  are  enough  to  scare  anybody  this  morning;  'tain't 
influenza  you've  got,  take  my  word  for  it!  That  doctor's 
made  a  mistake,  sure!  Lord,  but  you  did  give  me  a 
turn!" 

Loic,  speaking  in  a  low,  muffled  voice  and  in  the  jerky 
manner  caused  by  a  knifelike  pain  that  thrust  him 
through  the  ribs,  courteously  apologized  for  having  given 
her  "a  turn,"  whereupon  the  good  soul  gave  vent  to  a 
torrent  of  words,  concluding  with:  "You  don't  know  how 
much  this  reminds  me  of  Cramp's  last  illness — he  died  of 
pneumonia,  poor  dear,  and  he  was  as  brave  as  a  lion 
about  the  pain,  though  it  did  make  him  swear  some 
when  it  got  to  be  at  its  worst!" 

Loic  smiled  quietly.  "I  assure  you,"  he  said,  "that  I 
sympathize — with  Mr.  Cramp,  though — in  deference  to 
you — who,  alas!  are  not  my  wife — I'll  try  and  go  him 
one  better  and  not  swear — in  your  presence,  at  least!" 
"  They  say,"  he  added,  half  to  himself  after  a  moment's 
interval,  "that  it  goes  hardest — with  men  who  have 
been  drinking  a  bit  heavily!" 

"That's  just  what  the  doctor  told  my  old  man,"  ac- 
quiesced that  lamented  gentleman's  garrulous  widow; 
then  hastily  bethinking  herself,  she  continued,  "but  you 

546 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

are  lots  younger  than  he  was,  and  lots  stronger,  too,  so 
that  even  if  it  is  pneumonia  you  have  every  chance!" 

"Thank  you!"  gasped  Loic.  "I'm  not  a  bit  afraid,  I 
assure  you.  Ah,  Mere  Corentine  vous  avez  ete  bonne  pro- 
phetesse  ma  pauvre  chere  vieille!" 

"How?"  Mrs.  Cramp  asked,  apprehensively. 

"Oh,  nothing!  I'm  not  off  my  head  yet;  but  you  can 
send  for  the  doctor  if  you  like,  my  good  Mrs.  Cramp — 
although  I  scarcely  think — that  he  will  leave  wealthier 
patients  for  my  sake — and  I  don't  care  a  damn  whether 
he  does  or  not,"  he  added,  when  she  had  rushed  out  of 
the  room  almost  panic-stricken.  "  If  only  I  can  see  Gaidik 
once — just  see  Gaidik  once  again — that's  all  I  ask;  and 
if  even  that  is  refused — who  knows  but — only  afterwards 
will  we  begin  our  true  life — together — she  still  here — I — 
ah! — who  knows!" 

Waking  from  a  restless  doze,  a  little  while  later,  he 
stared  in  surprise  at  the  smoky  ceiling — his  mind  wan- 
dering slightly.  "It's  all  my  fault — all  my  fault!"  he 
murmured,  in  a  short-breathed  drone.  "I  was  always  a 
fool — and  stubborn — as  a  mule,  but  when  you  come  for 
me,  Gaid,  you'll  see  I'll  do  better — you'll  bring  Kikette 
back — poor  little  Kikette — and  we  will  be  happy  at  last. 
It  was  only  a  nightmare,  those  years  and  months  and 
days — my  own  Gaid!"  His  fingers  picked  aimlessly  at 
the  counterpane,  and  finally  raising  himself  painfully 
on  his  uncomfortable  and  tumbled  pillows,  he  managed 
to  draw  towards  him  a  small  table  upon  which  lay  spread 
the  contents  of  that  brown-paper  parcel  from  the  very 
bottom  of  his  trunk,  the  portfolio  filled  with  Gaidik's 
photographs,  and  the  writing-case,  and  at  last  feebly 
grasped  a  slim  roll  of  parchments  from  which  great  seals 
depended  attached  by  faded  ribbons.  "Ah,"  he  whis- 
pered, with  a  low  laugh,  which  made  him  cough,  "the 

547 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

old  records — fifth  century — fourteen  hundred  years — it's 
a  long  spell  of  nobility  to  have  it  end  like  this — "  and 
again  he  laughed. 

Suddenly  the  blind,  unseeing  look  in  his  eyes  vanished, 
and  he  turned  them  consciously  to  the  door  which  had 
opened  again  softly. 

"Well,  Mrs.  Cramp,"  he  said,  in  a  voice  just  audible — 
"brought  me  something  again?  You  are  kind!" 

Mrs.  Cramp  came  up  to  the  bed,  holding  in  one  hand 
a  pale  yellow  envelope,  and  in  the  other  three  or  four 
pink  and  white  camellias. 

"There  now,  drat  you,  Sir,  you've  uncovered  your 
poor  chest  again!  You're  too  bad!"  she  said,  quite  cross- 
ly for  her.  "  I've  sent  after  the  doctor,  and  here's  a  tele- 
gram just  come  for  you,  that's  been  lying  at  your  old 
rooms  down-town  for  a  week ;  it  was  a  new  hand,  it  ap- 
pears, that  didn't  know  you,  as  took  it  in,  and  what  with 
one  thing  and  another  they  didn't  think  to  send  it  up  till 
to-day — and,"  she  volubly  continued,  "here's  some  flow- 
ers, too,  since  you  like  them  so  much,  which  my  little 
niece  has  brought  me — and — ' ' 

At  sight  of  the  envelope,  Loic's  ashy  face  had  flushed 
lividly.  "Give  it  to  me!"  he  cried,  hoarsely,  struggling 
to  sit  up,  but  Mrs.  Cramp  held  him  down,  and,  seeing  how 
terribly  his  fingers  trembled,  tore  it  open  for  him  and 
spread  it  out  before  his  eyes: 

"I  am  coming  to  you.  Don't  give  up  hope,  all  will  be  well. 
Tenderest  love.  GAID." 

******* 
It  was  evening,  only  a  little  after  moonrise,  and  some 
wonderful  silver  rays  flooded  the  room.  There  was  but 
little  apparatus  of  sickness  or  medicine  there — no  doc- 
tor, no  medicine — which  perhaps  allows  one  to  die  easier. 
Beneath  the  lamp  on  the  little  table  near  the  bed,  a 

548 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

handful  of  simple,  home  -  grown  flowerets  basking  in  a 
white  china  cup,  gave,  as  Loic  had  said  an  hour  before, 
a  comfortable  look  of  home  to  the  whole  place,  and  on 
a  chair  near  the  bed  the  toy  monkey,  selected  so  glee- 
fully for  Kikette's  Christmas,  was  dancing  and  chatter- 
ing like  mad,  having  been  wound  up  at  his  particular 
request — great  baby  that  he  still  was  in  spite  of  all — to 
while  the  time  away. 

He  had  been  very  restless  since  the  receipt  of  Gaidik's 
message,  but  he  was  lying  quiet  just  now,  his  head  turned 
sideways  on  the  pillow,  his  cheek  pressed  to  Gaidik's 
miniature,  at  which  he  glanced  now  and  again  with  un- 
speakable love  and  longing. 

"Will  she  be  in  time?"  he  thought,  a  little  drowsily,  as 
Mrs.  Cramp,  who,  seeing  him  so  much  calmer,  and  fond- 
ly imagining  this  to  be  a  good  sign,  was  explaining  how 
futile  had  been  her  efforts  to  get  the  doctor,  and  it  was 
almost  with  his  old,  mocking  smile  that  he  murmured: 
"Thrifty  man,  that — doesn't  like  to  waste  his  visits! 
But  never  mind,  Mrs.  Cramp,  you  will  be  rewarded — 
Gaid  will  see  to  that!" 

A  fearful  attack  of  coughing  interrupted  him,  and  in 
his  distress  he  sprang  to  his  feet,  with  the  desperate  hope 
that  he  could  at  last  get  a  deep  breath  thus. 

"No!  No!  child,  you  mustn't!"  Mrs.  Cramp  cried  out, 
endeavoring  to  restrain  him ;  but  that  magnificent  strength 
of  his  was  not  yet  quite  gone,  even  if  the  poor,  overstrained 
heart  refused  to  do  him  service  any  longer,  and  she  could 
not  force  him  down,  in  spite  of  all  her  efforts ;  but  suddenly 
he  fell  back  of  his  own  accord,  gasped  once  or  twice,  and 

lay  quite  still. 

******* 

A  light  step  raced  up  the  stairs,  and  Gaidik,  breathless, 
haggard,  travel-worn,  stood  in  that  silent  little  room. 

549 


THE    TRIDENT    AND    THE    NET 

Her  expression  was  so  forbidding  that  poor  Mrs.  Cramp, 
who  had  met  her  at  the  front  door  and  now  entered  after 
her,  recoiled  in  dismay.  The  paper-white  face,  the  sav- 
agely glittering  eyes,  and  the  extraordinary  rigidity  of 
the  tensely  braced  little  figure,  frightened  her  almost  out 
of  her  wits,  but  yet  at  last  she  ventured  to  touch  on< 
tightly  clinched  hand  timidly,  in  her  overwhelming  sym- 
pathy for  that  voiceless,  tearless  agony,  and  Gaidik  turned 
suddenly  upon  her: 

"Do  you  think  that  any  one  will  dispute  him  to  me 
now?"  she  demanded,  fiercely. 


THE    END 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below, 
or  on  the  date  to  which  renewed.  Renewals  only: 

Tel.  No.  642-3405 

Renewals  may  be  made  4  days  priod  to  date  due. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


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